Risk and Reward

by Rachael Duncan

  I lay on my back and stared up at the ceiling, careful to leave enough room for him. He seemed less concerned about personal space as he rolled around with little finesse to get comfortable. Once he was still, several moments passed and you could tell neither of us had a clue what to say or do. It was as if we were in uncharted waters despite being married for six years. But, in a way, we were. What’s the protocol on separating and getting back together? Does everything immediately return to the way it was? I thought I needed to ease into this, but here I am plunging in feet first. But what’s surprising is I’m okay with it.

  I try to remove myself from Nate’s body as slowly as possible so I don’t wake him.

  “Good morning,” he says, startling me. Judging by the lack of sleep in his voice, he’s been up for a while.

  “How long have you been awake?” I ask, looking up at him.

  One side of his mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin. “Awhile.”

  “If you needed to get up, you could have. You know I sleep like the dead.”

  His deep chuckle vibrates through his body, which I have yet to pull away from. “I was fine. Plus, I like watching you sleep.”

  “Do you now?”

  He nods. “Yep. With your hair scattered everywhere, mouth hanging open, and drool coming out of it, you’re the definition of beauty.” He tries miserably to hide his smile, earning him a swat to the chest.

  I scoff. “I do not drool.”

  “Says the one with a dry shirt.”

  Sure enough, there’s a small puddle on his chest and I want to die. I can’t believe I basically spit all over him. I sit up with wide eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

  He waves me off. “It didn’t bother me eight years ago, it doesn’t bother me now.”

  I stare at him for a moment, touched that he dealt with me drooling on him and never complained, but most importantly, he remembers we’ve hit another year. We weren’t together on our anniversary this year. Well, we were kind of if you count running into each other at the hospital, but it means a lot to me that he knows exactly how long we’ve been together.

  “Eight years,” I muse. “Seems like forever.”

  “I was thinking it doesn’t seem like long enough.”

  The last of my defenses have melted away and I’m throwing caution to the wind. I belong with this man, plain and simple.

  “I’m going to feed the dog and make some coffee. Meet me in the sitting room?” he asks. With a soft smile, I nod before he swings his legs over the bed and gets up.

  Once he’s gone, I go to the bathroom to freshen up and then meet him downstairs. Sitting in the oversized chair in the formal sitting room is Nate. Two cups of coffee are placed on the side table beside him. He holds his arm out in invitation, and I take it.

  I snuggle back against him while we drink our coffees and gaze out the window as the sun rises. “This feels like old times,” I remark.

  “It does.” His grip on me tightens.

  “I missed this,” I say on a sigh.

  He nuzzles my neck before kissing the skin behind my ear. “Me too, Charlotte. Me too.”

  A pang of sorrow hits me in the chest. I hate we had to go through so much pain to get here, but more than anything, I hate I was the cause of it. If I had spoken up a long time ago, we could have avoided all of this. Sadness soon gives way to guilt as I think about him in this house alone and miserable while I was trying to move on with my life and off dating. How he can be so forgiving of my transgressions to our marriage is beyond me, but I’m so thankful.

  Turning to the side so I can see him, my eyes roam over his face. “I like it like this,” I say, referring to the scruff he normally keeps shaved smooth. His only response is an appreciative smile. “What time do you have to be at work?” I ask.

  “Not until nine,” he answers.

  “Wow, that would normally be a late start for you.”

  “Perks of having a desk job,” he says with a wink.

  “Good, then I’ll make us both breakfast since I don’t have to be in until nine either.”

  He kisses me softly on the lips. “That sounds perfect.”

  The chemistry between us is so different from several months ago. No, different isn’t the right word, they’ve just returned to normal. I feel the spark simmering between us. It’s in the way we hold each other’s gazes, or the way his skin feels against mine. I thought what we had was long gone, never to be salvaged. I’m so damn glad I was wrong.

  Choco puts his head on my thigh and looks up at me. “You need to go out?” He stands back up and wags his tail. “Alright, let’s go.”

  As soon as I open the back door, Choco rushes out. It’s nice having a fenced in backyard where he can roam free and do his business. As he sniffs around and runs back and forth, his tongue hangs out of his mouth. Although for different reasons, it seems we’re both happier here than at my tiny apartment.

  “He’s happier than a pig in shit out there,” Nate says from behind me. I shake my head and giggle at his analogy.

  “He’s used to apartment living, so this is all new and exciting for him.”

  “Well, tell him to get used to it.” He doesn’t elaborate, not that he needs to. I believe in my heart this is where I’m supposed to be.

  I whip us up a couple of omelets real quick before we sit down and enjoy the quiet of the morning. After Nate takes our plates to the sink, he says, “I’ve got to start getting ready for work, but I’ll text you if I can schedule movers to come pack up your things.”

  “I have to get ready too. I was a little out of it when I packed my things because of the note, but I need to run by my place tonight after work and grab some more things.” Choco comes running up to the back door, so I let him in.

  “I’ll go with you,” Nate offers.

  “It’s okay. It shouldn’t take me long. I’ll run by on my way home.”

  “That wasn’t a request. I don’t trust this guy and I don’t want you over there by yourself.” I’m about to tell him he’s being silly, but the hardline of his jaw tells me he’s very serious about this.

  “Fine.”

  “Thank you,” he says against my lips before kissing me.

  Work went off without a hitch. I stayed pretty busy, so the day went by at a steady pace. Nate had text messaged me earlier to let me know he’d meet me at the house and then we’ll drive together to my apartment. He also said movers would be by on Friday.

  When I pull into the driveway, I’m met with the brightest smile I’ve ever seen. He meets me at my door and opens it for me.

  “Hey, my love.” Helping me out of the car, he leans down and kisses me.

  “Hey,” I reply. “How was your day?”

  “Had a few meetings, but that’s about it.”

  As I stare up at him, it’s the first time I’ve noticed how much better he looks. He was pale, thin, and had dark circles under his eyes when I first came back. He looked worn down and defeated, but that’s not the man before me now. While he still needs to gain his weight back, he looks alive. The dark circles are gone, his eyes are vibrant, and he has color in his face again. It makes me wonder if I’ve undergone the same transformation too, but couldn’t see it. If my heart is any indication, I’d say I have.

  The drive to my apartment only takes fifteen minutes. We both walk up the steps, but I notice immediately that something is wrong. My door is slightly ajar and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I don’t realize I’ve stopped walking until Nate runs into the back of me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “The door’s open,” I whisper.

  He moves in front of me. “Stay behind me.”

  My stomach clenches as I walk on shaky legs behind him. The closer we get to the door, the louder the music inside gets.

  “No, Nate. Let’s just leave.” I grab the back of his shirt to stop him. He pushes on anyway.

  When we enter, he flips on the light and it takes a second for my eyes to adjust. Once the
y do, the air is sucked from my lungs as I take in the mess before me.

  “Oh my God.” My hand goes up to my mouth as I walk farther in, careful not to step on anything.

  My apartment is destroyed. What little I owned is tossed around, discarded like insignificant trash. The couch cushions are cut open, their insides spilling out. I look across the living room and the TV has been knocked off of its stand. Picture frames lay on the floor shattered, much like my heart is right now.

  I hug myself around my waist to thwart off the violation I’m starting to feel. As I peer into the kitchen, all the cabinet doors are open, revealing empty shelves. All my dishes are on the floor, smashed and broken into a bunch of pieces. Papers and more remnants of my stuff litter the floor, making it hard to step over. Everything I had is ruined.

  “It’s all clear.” Nate’s voice startles me, making me jump. “No one’s here.” I didn’t even notice he left my side. I glance up at his blurry image as tears fill my eyes.

  I walk into my bedroom and am met with the same destruction, but there’s a song playing on a loop, causing bile to rise up the back of my throat. Taylor Swift’s You Belong To Me repeats over and over. But it’s not the whole song, just that one line.

  You belong to me.

  The light, airiness of her voice mixed with the sinister meaning behind this message is terrifying. “Shut it off.” My voice is barely a whisper.

  “What?” Nate asks, leaning closer.

  “Shut it off!” I yell. My hands go up to my ears as I try to block the sound out. The walls are closing in and it’s getting harder to breathe. I think I’m having a panic attack as I begin to hyperventilate.

  Suddenly, I’m met with silence, just the pulse in my ears and the raggedness of my breaths to fill the void. Nate wraps his arms around me, trying to comfort and calm me down. It’s not working.

  “Shhh, it’s going to be okay, Charlotte. I promise you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  “Why is he doing this?” I ask through a sob.

  “I have no clue.” Pulling back from me, he gets his phone out of his pocket before placing a call. I’m too stunned to ask who he’s calling.

  “Hey, I’ve got a problem. Can you meet me at Charlotte’s apartment? Someone broke in and trashed the place.” He pauses. “Okay, thanks, man.” He puts his phone away and addresses me. “Marcus is on his way. He’s calling it in so there will be more officers here, alright?” I nod my head and rest it on his chest.

  “He knows you work at the dealership. You’re not going back there,” he informs me. For the first time ever, I don’t argue because I know he’s right.

  I’m not safe there.

  “WHOA,” IS ALL Marcus says as he enters my apartment. I’ve been sitting on what is left of my couch since Nate made the call, staring blankly into space. I know Nate’s worried about me, but I can’t muster the effort to fake my feelings enough to reassure him I’m okay.

  Because I’m not.

  This isn’t okay.

  “Was there anyone inside when you got here?” he asks us.

  “No,” Nate responds.

  “Have you touched anything or is this exactly as you found it?” Marcus was just getting off duty when we called him and is in full cop mode right now. He’s going over all the pertinent information regarding my situation, but the one thing he hasn’t asked yet is who?

  “We haven’t touched anything—well, we shut off the music,” Nate answers again.

  “Music?” My gaze is locked on the floor, so I can’t read Marcus’s face. Judging by the tone of his voice, he’s definitely curious if not a little confused.

  “When we came in, there was a line from a song playing on repeat.” Nate shifts beside me, the only indication it made him uncomfortable too.

  “Okay, we’ll wait until the rest of the team gets here to collect evidence and sweep for prints.”

  “I already know who did it.” My voice is flat.

  His eyebrows rise up his forehead. “Who?” From the corner of my eye, I see he has a notepad out as he takes notes.

  “Ethan Peck.” His name feels like acid on my tongue and terror on my soul. Marcus is quiet for a moment, so I raise my eyes to see the wheels turning in his mind trying to place the name. “We dated casually after I left Nate,” I offer.

  “What makes you think it was him?” he asks.

  I let out a sigh. “I’ve been feeling like someone was watching me lately, but kept brushing it off as being paranoid.”

  “Why would you be paranoid? Did something happen between the two of you?”

  My lip quivers as I try to hold back the tears. Memories of a certain night I tried to dismiss assault me and I can’t contain it anymore. I simply nod. Marcus places a hand on my shoulder. “I need you to tell me everything so we can build a case against him, okay?”

  I look to my left where Nate is sitting beside me. With encouragement in his eyes, he grabs hold of my hand and squeezes. In a shaky tone, I tell Marcus about our relationship and how it progressed. I tell him about the comments he’d make that would bother me and how he was very pushy at times, but when I get to the turning point in my story, my breath hitches. The large lump in my throat makes it impossible to talk as I do everything to keep from sobbing.

  “It’s okay,” Nate says in my ear as his head rests against the side of mine. “I’m right here.” He’s trying to remain strong, but I can tell from the tension in his shoulders he’s preparing for the worst.

  “One night he followed me in after dinner. I hadn’t planned to invite him in, but when he asked to have one drink before he went home, I figured it wasn’t a big deal. He started kissing me, but something about it was different. It was desperate, punishing even.” In the moment, I took his frenzied state as being turned on and in a rush. Thinking back, I know that wasn’t the case. He was taking what he wanted.

  I swear I hear Nate’s teeth grind together, but he remains silent as I recall a night I want to forget.

  “Things were happening too fast. One minute we’re sitting up kissing, the next he has me lying down with my dress pushed up. I turned my head away and tried to get him to back off, but he kept going.” I swallow hard and close my eyes. It’s as if I can feel his hands on me all over again. My stomach churns, the need to puke sitting at the surface.

  “He—he pushed my underwear to the side, and I told him to stop. But he didn’t. Then he put his fingers inside me and I started to panic. I yelled for him to stop and pushed his chest. He looked at me like he didn’t know what the problem was, but he backed off.”

  “What happened after that?” Marcus asks. His tone is harsh, and he looks angry. I’m afraid to glance at Nate and see his reaction.

  I shake my head. “Nothing. He apologized and said he didn’t hear me.”

  “Why didn’t you report him?”

  I pick at the hem of my shirt, feeling judged for remaining silent. “I was confused, and I wasn’t sure if he had done anything wrong. I didn’t stop him when he kissed me, so maybe he took that as the green light. And if he really didn’t hear me say stop, then . . .”

  At my last statement, Nate boils over. Standing up, he walks to the closest wall and puts his fist through it. “God dammit!” he screams. “You better hope you get to this motherfucker before I do, Marcus.”

  The sobs I’d been holding back wrack my body. All the shame and confusion bubbles to the surface and releases from my body with every tear that leaks down my face. Nate’s arms engulf me as I cry into his shirt. “I’ll never let anything happen to you again, Charlotte. I swear on my life you will be safe with me.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say into his chest as I continue to cry. “All I could see was you when he was kissing me. I tried to stop him, I really did.”

  “Shhh, this isn’t your fault. You have nothing to be sorry for. I love you so damn much and we’ll get through this together, okay?”

  I nod as I try to gather myself. After a few moments I sit up and
look at his face. I hate the pain I see lurking in the shadows of his blue eyes. To know I’m the cause of it yet again rips my heart open, the wound a reminder of how much I’ve put him through. I would’ve never told Nate any of this, deciding it was best to try to forget rather than expose anyone I love to the agony of that night. Yet, here I am confessing to the most traumatic moment of my life to not only Nate, but Marcus as well. The urge to curl up in a ball and allow the ground to swallow me whole where the embarrassment of what I’m telling them can’t touch me is strong, but I know that’s not possible. Instead, I look down at my lap and let the tears roll down my cheeks. Cupping my face, he uses his thumb to wipe the moisture from under my eyes.

  “I know this is hard, so if you need to take a break, we can pick this up in the morning,” Marcus offers.

  I shake my head. “No, I’m okay. Let’s get this over with so I can get out of here.”

  “Did you see or have any contact with him after he assaulted you?”

  My head comes up and looks at Marcus as I’m taken aback by one word.

  Assault.

  In the back of my mind I might have known that’s what happened, but hearing Marcus say it makes it all too real.

  “Charlotte?” he questions when I don’t respond while staring at him.

  “Sorry. Uh, no, not really. He would call and text me, but I would kind of blow him off. I’d see him at work but avoided him that whole week.”

  “So you guys work together?”

  “Worked. He quit.”

  “When did he quit?”

  I think back to that day at Target, trying to remember when it happened. “About two weeks ago,” I answer.

  “Anything prompt it?” Marcus’s eyes are on his notepad as he scribbles away, a deep crease between his hazel eyes. I explain what happened at Target and the threat he made there, followed by the note he left on my car yesterday. “Do you still have the note?”