The Reward

by Jade A. Waters

  I’d never felt so free.

  * * *

  Almost three hours after Dean left to hang out with his brother, I finally called it for the night on my solo efforts. We’d worked together upon return from my condo, and once Dean had showered to head out, I’d kept at it. I’d been going nonstop since except for my quick dinner break, and I was beat—never mind stinky. That revelation hit me square in the face when I wiped sweat off my forehead and caught a whiff of myself. Yuck. I reeked of stale sweat and hard work. However, that unpleasantness hardly overshadowed my crying body. My lower back was sore in particular, not just from all the box carrying and furniture lugging, but from the last couple of nights Dean had secured me in the play room. He’d been careful to massage my limbs each time afterward, like he often did. But with the physicality of the move, it had taken its toll.

  Still, as worn out as I was, reminiscing made me grin. I had a few nice visuals to carry me through the pour of a glass of white wine before I dragged myself up the stairs for my well-earned bath. On the way, I shut off all the downstairs lights except for the one in the entryway for Dean’s return home. Then I snatched my cell off the dining room table and headed to the bathroom at the top of the stairs.

  Excited, I settled on making this the best bath I’d had in weeks. Hell, it was the only bath I’d had in weeks with all that’d been going on. After resting my stuff on the floor beside the tub and starting the tap, I rummaged through the wall cabinet for candles and bath salts. I lit the former on the shelf at the base of the cabinet and threw a ridiculous amount of the latter in the water. Then I went into the bedroom to tear off my disgusting clothes while the water ran, toting my robe back in with me to hang on the hook on the back of the door. I felt silly shutting it once I was ready to thrive in the candle glow, but by the time I intended to get out of the water, the temperature from the abandoned downstairs could likely ruin the bone-deep warmth I was after. This time of year, the days could be warm, but nights in Half Moon Bay on the coast where we were made for a distinct chill in the air. I compromised with a crack in the door to keep the heat inside, then slipped into the water with a heavy exhalation.

  Damn, this felt good.

  The tub at my old place had been a hair too short to stretch out my legs, but probably thanks to Dean and Niko’s design expertise on this house, the tub struck me as the ideal length to allow for a real soak. I dipped low in the water with the tap running and closed my eyes. Against the sore muscles of my back, the heat of the water felt amazing, and I foresaw many a bath in this tub in my future—some with Dean, some without; both would do. At the moment, all I cared about was luxuriating in the blissful cradle of the water and the coconut-vanilla scent of the bath salts floating into my nose.

  Once the water level had almost reached the rim of the tub, I used my toes to turn off the faucet and rose back up to grab my wine. I was three sips into it before my phone rang, and I scooped it off the floor with nothing but warmth sweeping through every inch of my body.

  “Hot bath, you on the phone and wine in hand? My night got even better,” I said instead of a hello to Dean.

  He laughed. “I take it you’re having a good time.”

  “Oh, yeah. This tub is kick-ass.”

  “Happy to hear. Wish I was in it with you.”

  “I’m all for that, in our many nights together ahead.” I rested the glass against my chest, enjoying the ripple of the water covering all but my knees and shoulders and the sentiment, too. I couldn’t get over how wonderful it felt to be living with Dean. “But I hope you had a good time with Evan?”

  “Yes, we did. Had drinks, played pool, talked shit. The usual.”

  “Nice. Are you heading home?”

  “I am. Will you still be awake?”

  “Unless I pass out here in this tub, I think so.” I checked the time on my phone. “It’s not even ten yet, anyway. I’ve got a little energy left in me.” I curled my toes, aware of how deep the ache in my body ran and how fast I could pass out after leaving the heat of this water. “Okay, not a lot of energy, but I’ll still be up.”

  “Okay.”

  Strangely, I thought I heard a knock then. I stayed quiet a second, trying to hear beyond the phone call. I couldn’t imagine anyone would be knocking on the door this late, but when I heard the sound again, I straightened with a tilt of my head.

  “Are you already home?”

  “What? No. I left the Mission about five minutes ago. I’ll be there in maybe...thirty minutes.” He paused, his voice shifting higher. “Why?”

  I turned toward the bathroom door, because it sounded like another knock had happened—but also that the front door had opened.

  That couldn’t be right.

  Had I locked the door? I couldn’t remember doing it after flicking on the entryway light. Where we were on the coast was low traffic, and I’d occasionally seen even Dean skip it.

  But that had most definitely been the sound of the door opening, and with it, shuffled footsteps at the base of the stairs.

  The pound of my heart came swift and hard. “Dean, are you fucking with me right now? Are you here?” Under the warmth of the water, goose bumps blanketed my legs.

  “No. What’s going on?”

  “Someone’s...” I listened. I heard another shuffle, a cough. A thud and a muttering I couldn’t hear. “Shit! Dean, someone’s here. I’m calling the police,” I whispered.

  “What? Oh my God. Maya, fuck! Please be careful. I’m on my way!”

  I didn’t wait to say anything more. I clicked off the phone and dialed 9-1-1, trying to hear what was happening downstairs when the operator came on the line. I was so focused on the noises I heard from downstairs, but I tried to concentrate on what she was asking while I whispered back. The nature of my emergency? Someone’s in my house. Can you see the intruder? No, and I don’t want to. Does the intruder have a weapon? Holy fuck, might they have a weapon? I got out of the water while I balanced the phone and continued answering the questions as quietly and calmly as I could, which wasn’t saying much. To the sound of whomever was bumbling around down there, I toweled off and grabbed my robe. “They’re downstairs. I don’t know who it is. I—”

  “Maya? Are you here?” The voice was male. Slurred.

  My stomach dropped into my feet, the fear rising in my throat as I whispered our address and wrapped the robe around me. “Oh shit. I think it’s my ex-boyfriend. Please come soon.”

  “Dispatch is en route to you, ma’am,” the operator said. But I struggled to comprehend. I heard the echo of that voice I recognized, at the base of my stairs, stirring a terrifying quake from deep within me. I tightened the tie at my waist, the satin of the robe not smooth, warm or sexy and instead icy and far too thin when I peeked through the crack of the door to confirm my fear.

  Charlie stood in the entryway of my fucking house.

  “I know this is your house now. Are you here?” he asked. He tripped on the runner by the door, clutching the stairwell for balance.

  He was here, and he was drunk.

  I hadn’t let go of the phone, but I slid it into my robe pocket and glanced around the bathroom. There was nowhere to go but out the door. And outside the door was a stairwell that led downstairs to the reality of Charlie in my fucking house or two bedrooms to head into, neither of which led outside.

  My body shook; my throat grew parched. I had to do something, but what the fuck could I do?

  Slowly, I opened the door, trying to summon everything I had in me to stand tall as I stepped out of the bathroom. But I was practically naked, and at the base of the stairs, Charlie stood peering around. I stopped cold when he looked up at me, my heartbeat firing like a round of bullets through my chest. His hair was a mess, his forehead wrinkled and his lips tight. His next clumsy trip was over nothing that I could see on the floor from here, an
d it had him pitching toward the stairwell with an awkward grasp to steady himself. The fumble stirred shit up in the back of my head, memories of him coming home drunk countless times to scream at me. Terrify me.

  Hurt me.

  “Maya, you’re here!” he said, his voice wavering but coming out quaint, as if he had every right to be here. “I was right. This is your place. I found you.”

  My gut clenched hard, and every muscle I’d just relaxed in the tub tensed tight. The entryway light showered him like he was under a sort of spotlight—bad guy, center stage—and my breath halted in my throat. He lifted one foot onto the bottom stair and took a firmer grip of the stairwell, his entire presence stalling the activity in my head while I tried to piece it together. This was my home, and Charlie was here, his body blocking the one route I had to the exit like it had over a dozen times when we’d lived together.

  I’ll control you forever, Maya. You’re mine. You’re weak.

  I needed to talk him down, and I forced out my words. “What are you doing here?” I couldn’t cover the panic in my voice, the meekness spilling from my throat. Shivers coursed through my blood, freezing it in my veins. I needed the police here, now, but in the meantime, I had to keep him calm. I stepped farther out on the landing, hoping me standing there, showing I was able to talk, would make him realize he was way out of line coming here.

  “I told you, I’ve been trying to talk to you.” Charlie’s voice oozed out in that taunting sound I remembered, cold and hard, prickling at my skin. “But you wouldn’t let me explain, and I overreacted. His windshield, that was dumb. I’m sorry. I was drunk, and you have to understand—”

  “Windshield?” I froze, his comment turning my world topsy-turvy. The windshield? He’d shattered it? “You need to go!” That, I knew more than anything, but Charlie mounted the next stair to send my pulse racing at a more blistering pace.

  “Maya, I keep trying to tell you I’m different!” At his next step, I threw my hands up in a stop gesture. He paused, but the possessed, lunatic expression taking over his face yanked me from nervous to horrified in a millisecond. I’d seen that face in nightmares many times over the years, the face that’d warned he believed his actions were good, that I was the crazy one.

  I wasn’t holding back anymore. I shouted, “Charlie, get out! I’ve called the police!”

  When I backed up another step, Charlie took that as his cue, the sneer on his face as obvious as the potent smell of alcohol rising up the stairs with him. “That’s how you’re going to be, you bitch?” The word churned my stomach, and panic seeped through my pores. I looked in either direction, then over my shoulder at the bathroom door. It didn’t have a lock. Did the bedrooms? I’d never checked, because why would either Dean or I lock the door? As I tried to think, Charlie continued advancing.

  “Please, Charlie. Stop. You’re drunk. You should go!”

  Charlie’s tone came angrier, his eyes narrowing. “Why, because you think you’re better off with him? I looked him up online. He’s a piece of shit! Do you know how lucky you were that I ever wanted you? That I found you and then took the time to bother talking to you again?”

  Looked him up online? The fact that Charlie had stalked Dean, located his work, smashed his windshield and then found his way to our house had my heart thumping again, a warning shot telling me to run. But where the hell could I go? I was terrified, but a bolt of anger ripped through me, sharp and intense, raising my hackles until I reared up. He’d come into my house. He had no right. He never had.

  I screamed, “Fuck you, Charlie! Get out!” But my screams fueled him; his vicious expression turned so ugly as he stopped to yell.

  “I’ve changed, you stupid slut. You’re an idiot to think he’s any better than me.” My stomach took a nosedive straight for my feet, his words insane, the pounding in my head insane, everything about this too much. When my back hit the wall, I gasped. Where the fuck did I go now?

  The vortex of my thoughts made me dizzy. I heard myself shout again, firmer, louder, my hands lifting in front of my face. “Stop! No!”

  Charlie started cussing more, his speech becoming incoherent, the scent of alcohol leaching from his pores to fill my nose. I shook my head in some futile attempt to ward him off and remembered the phone in my pocket. Reaching for it, I held it up again and shouted, “I called the police. I’ll call them again. Get the fuck out!” I’d hoped Charlie might pause, but he didn’t. I scurried sideways to get back in the bathroom, and he barreled up the stairs to stop me in such a hurry that I shrieked at the grasp of his hand around a mass of robe fabric. He yanked me out toward him, then shoved me back to the wall. “Charlie! Stop!” I flinched, every sore muscle aching more at his push up against me, his breath disgusting over my face, his body rough on me as I shuddered. I squirmed as best I could but he’d blocked me on the wall, and while he tried to grab for the phone in my hand, I beat at his chest, trying to get out from under his weight. “Get off! No!”

  Charlie laughed. “Come on, Maya. When did you ever say no to me?” I shrieked when he caught the phone, but he wrenched it from my hand and threw it across the hall, the move shattering it on the floor. “Why won’t you fucking listen to me?” Charlie wedged tighter, and I fought against him, clawing at his face, kicking at his shins.

  “Fuck off! Get out!”

  Over Charlie’s snarl I heard a bang on the door, and another before, “Half Moon Bay P.D.!”

  “Help!” I shouted. Charlie’s face contorted, and I shoved back on him. “Help! Up here! Please!”

  “Fucking bitch!”

  They were Charlie’s last words before everything spun, his fingers suddenly reaching my throat to the backdrop of footsteps rushing up the stairs. I caught a glimpse of black uniforms on two men behind Charlie, then saw him tugged off me in a blinding flash before one of the officers shoved him down and dug a knee into his back. The officer started reading Charlie’s rights and cuffed his wrists behind his back, and I stayed pressed to the wall, tremors wreaking havoc on my body while the other officer tried to get my attention.

  “Ma’am? Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

  I gasped for breath, clutching at the sides of my robe, shaking so hard the questions being asked of me weren’t quite registering. What did was the sight of the officer hauling Charlie up from the floor and down the stairs, then out the front door.

  Hopefully for good.

  “I’m all right,” I said, nodding. “I’m good.”

  * * *

  “Jesus Christ. Maya!”

  The shout came from Dean, his arms fast around me once he made it past the officer outside and met me in my huddle at the dining room table.

  “Hey.” I melted against him. The dispatch officer who’d been asking me questions waited through our interaction, his face stoic as he sat in the seat adjacent me at the table since Charlie had been escorted outside. I’d asked for a few minutes to put on real clothes, and through the thickness of my sweatshirt that hadn’t yet warmed me back up from the cold shock of Charlie’s presence, Dean’s arms circulated heat back through me, the level of his concern and love helping to calm me.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I’m better.”

  Dean stepped back and nodded at the officer. “Thank you.”

  The officer lifted his head, and then Dean took my hand, sitting in the chair on my other side, squeezing my fingers while I continued on with my explanation of who Charlie was and what’d happened. I couldn’t stop thinking how lucky I was that I’d been on the phone with Dean when Charlie had shown up, or I’d have assumed it was Dean himself.

  And who knew what would have happened then.

  “Well, I think we’ve got everything we need for now, Ms. Clery. I’ll be calling if I have more questions, and you have my number, too.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Of
ficer.”

  He said a few more things about domestic violence situations and the name of a detective before he left, and though I heard them, most of it didn’t register. Not like Dean’s huge embrace or the reassuring press of his body on mine. The entire event had been terrifying, yes, but in a way, seeing Charlie carried away, handcuffed, had settled something in me. I’d called the police, I’d handled this—which was nothing like what I would have done back when he and I had been together. How many times had I cowered instead of called for help, then?

  But I wasn’t the young girl he’d intimidated all those years ago. I wasn’t weak anymore.

  I wasn’t his to control.

  I was so much stronger than I was, and the thought filled me with fire, like I’d reclaimed my life and freedom by calling for help. I rested my head on Dean’s chest after the officer shut the front door behind him. Dean smoothed his hands over my back, then pressed his lips to my forehead in a soft kiss before I tilted back to grant him a small smile.

  “Are you really okay?”

  “Yes. He’s gone,” I said. The clasp of Dean’s arms around me was hard but full of love and concern.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

  “Don’t be. It’s okay.”

  Dean tightened his arms around my waist to squeeze me closer. “When you told me someone was in the house...I freaked, Maya. I freaked because I didn’t know if the police would get to you fast enough, whatever was going on—but I also knew you’d be strong. And brave.”

  The words lifted me up, but not because I needed to hear them. Because I knew they were true. Hearing Dean say them about me felt good. Supported. Known for who I was now, a woman who was powerful.

  And free.

  Dean kissed the top of my head, not releasing me for a good stretch of time, and I didn’t mind. His arms felt like my prize, his hold supporting the zeal of my heart. Beyond the house, the tide started rolling in, and the tumble of the waves was a beautiful sound in my ears to pair with the patter of Dean’s heart through his chest. All that fear I’d known was subdued because Charlie was in police custody, but also because of this incredible man holding me. He’d shown me so much about what I wanted and needed, and what drove me and made me strong.