by H. Maloney
His brows scrunch very slightly, but I see it. I chose correctly. “Is that right? Is that why you moved to a different state? Because you missed me? Is that why you were fucking that jarhead? Because you missed me? Is that why you changed your name? Because you missed me?” His voice rises with every question.
How does he…? A realization strikes hard and fast. I am. Such. An. Idiot. “It’s been you moving my things, hasn’t it?” Such a freaking idiot. Declan and Wiley tried to tell me, and still I brushed it off. Why did I not take it seriously?
His evil smile turns genuine and it really is a shame he’s bat shit crazy because he is a handsome guy. What a waste. “Of course it was. It was fun at first, watching you explain it away to yourself, watching it drive you just a little bit crazy.” He shakes his head. “But then it just got to be pathetic. Come on, Meg. I thought you were smarter than that.” Me too. Dammit.
I try to calm my racing heart, knowing I need to regain control of this situation. He is obviously well versed in my new life, but I just don’t know how he found me. “What are you doing here now, Ben?”
He gestures through the bedroom door into the living area. “I made you dinner, Maggie. I thought we could catch up.” He looks so genuine I almost want to look around and see where evil Ben went. “Come on, Maggie. The steak will get cold.” He gestures to the doorway and into the light of the living room, waiting for me to walk through first.
I hesitate a second, drawing courage from all the classes I’ve taken through the years, especially Declan’s more recent ones. I know what to do the minute he gets close enough; I just need to relax and let muscle memory take over. I only need to fight back long enough for—
For what? I almost lose my cool again. What’s going to happen if I can’t render him unconscious? I live alone. I’ve shut everyone out the past two weeks, and they’re giving me the space I so desperately needed so I could wallow. I almost laugh out loud. My feelings for one man got me into this situation, and my feelings for another are going to get me killed.
I shake off my thoughts as quickly as they come. The time for self-pity is over, Meg. I am not a damsel in distress, and there is no white knight waiting to rescue me. I’m all I’ve got, and that’s going to have to be enough.
I walk forward towards the four-seater table, careful to keep Ben in my sight. I don’t trust him. I’ve insulted his pride by running away and I’ve kept myself, the object of his obsession, at an unattainable distance. I’m not willing to take on faith that he won’t make me pay for it with my physical well-being.
“How did you find me, Ben?”
He steps close in front of me and pushes my wet hair off my face almost tenderly. “Well, you didn’t make it easy, what with changing your hair and your name.” He tugs at a strand more harshly, clenching his jaw. “I certainly didn’t expect you to be acting like a whore when I found you, crying over some other man who wasn’t me, Maggie.” I can feel the rage seething from him, but I take my chances and press him anyway. I have to know.
“How did you find me, Ben?” He dips his head close to mine and I will my heart to slow its pace, sure Ben can hear every rushed beat.
“I followed your sister.” He smiles again, switching back to genuine. “Tell me, Maggie. How stupid do you think I am that I wouldn’t figure out her scheme? Tsk, tsk. You really should have more respect for my abilities. They record the mileage from the car once it’s returned, Maggie. Once I knew how and when, I just had to wait for her to do it again and follow her.”
“She said you were dating someone new, Ben. Someone else.”
He chuckles and steps back. “Ah, yes. Yes, I am. And what a happy coincidence she found out. Now I don’t have to go into a lengthy explanation as to why.”
I try to pull back from his hold, but he won’t let me. My heart dips into my stomach. “Why what, Ben?”
“Why you have to go, of course,” he whispers into my ear. “You see, my new girl would get awfully jealous if she knew she wasn’t the only one in my affections, and while I tried to forget you, it just doesn’t seem to work that way.” He pulls back slightly and says, almost conversationally, “I think I might have to kill you, Maggie. I’ve done a lot of soul searching, and I think it’s the cleanest way to cut you from my life.”
I try to swallow past my suddenly dry throat. “And what about when you get put away for murder, Ben? What will your new girl do then?”
“And who’s going to know, Maggie? How am I supposed to know you’re here, when you’ve left very little trail and even changed your name? By all accounts, I’m still sitting a state away, waiting for you to come home to me. Besides,” he continues with a reprimanding tone, “this really isn’t the best neighborhood for a young, single female. You should have thought twice before renting here.”
Oh, shit. He’s serious.
We’re both caught off guard when my phone starts to ring. My pulse pounds. Whoever that is, please let them be on their way here. I use the brief distraction to my benefit and quickly aim my knee into Ben’s crotch. He catches it coming a half second before it’s too late, rotating his body to catch my knee with his thigh. I don’t waste time though, and try to get an uppercut into his chin, but it barely clips him. Goddammit!
He growls in frustration. “Now, Maggie,” he admonishes when I immediately follow it with a clean punch that lands on his cheek. Before I can pull it back, he has my forearm in a death grip. When I bring my other arm up to get in another punch, he blocks it and grabs that forearm as well. He pushes me back and I land on the set table, pinned by my forearms. I struggle against him, refusing to go out this way. “It really could be much easier if you just accepted your fate.”
I hear Declan’s voice in my head telling me that no fight is over until I say it is. I determine whether it’s worth the sacrifice of tapping out or not. He spurs me on, with a second wind. It’s not over until I say it is.
I spit in his eye. “Yeah, right, motherfucker. You are not going to be the one to determine my fate.” I’ve had years of hiding in the shadows from him, my anger and fear building up, almost needing this fight to expunge him from my system. I take advantage of the position and go to jab my knee into his crotch again—this time, it lands. His grip on my forearms loosens enough that I can pull from his hold and I start raining hammer fists down on his head, hoping to knock him out.
He lets out an unnatural growl and catches one arm above my head, using the other to put my neck in a choke hold. “I am the only one who can do it. You’re mine!” he roars.
One of my arms is still attempting to fight him off, but it’s not enough. My lips start to tingle and I’m getting dizzy. Dimly, I hear my phone ring again. At least I’ll go out listening to Ozzy Osbourne. I stop trying to hit him and instead try to dislodge his grip from my neck, digging my nails into his fingers until I feel the sticky warmth of blood. When I reposition my hand to pull from another angle, I feel the silverware he set out earlier. A knife. I don’t even think twice; I don’t have the time, my vision starting to develop black spots. I move as quickly as my oxygen-deprived body can and plunge the knife into his stomach before he can move to block it. He staggers back, releasing me completely from his grip. I quickly rise from the table, not wanting to remain in such a prone position even if he is bleeding out. I carefully bring in a lungful of air through my tender air passage, willing my mind to stay conscious as the oxygenated blood rushes back through my head.
“You whore! What have you done?” he gasps.
And that’s it. He sends me over the edge with those words. I snarl in warning, because it’s the only noise I can get out. I walk up to him and send my foot so hard into his balls I’m sure they’re no longer descended. It’s time for him to go down. I’m done with this. He collapses onto his knees and howls in pain. I’m not sure if it’s from the kick or the knife, and I don’t fucking care. I get closer and give him two solid punches against his temples… Okay, maybe there was a third, but he deserved it. I step
back and watch calmly as he falls back, unconscious.
I walk over to my phone, ignoring my missed calls and messages, and dial 911. I can’t speak, so I wait a few seconds after they answer and hang up, knowing someone will come regardless.
Picking up my towel that was dislodged at some point during the struggle, I wrap it around myself again and I calmly watch Ben bleed out on my floor. When I open the door exactly eight minutes later to the police, I faint dead away.
CHAPTER 21
MEG
I’m dreaming of dancing pumpkins when I’m awoken by distant voices. I want to tell the voices to go away, that they’re disrupting my fun, but I can’t. I try to make my throat work, but it refuses. Falling back on plan B, I try to open my eyes, but they won’t listen either. The voices get louder, closer. “Haven’t you done enough already?”
“No. I haven’t done nearly enough yet. I won’t leave here until she tells me to.”
I struggle to figure out what’s going on when I fall unconscious again.
***
A beeping noise wakes me up, persistent and high-pitched and annoying. I open my eyes and try to figure out what that freaking noise is when I’m assaulted by strange surroundings. I attempt to turn my head to investigate further, but it hurts too badly. A strangled whine is the only sound that manifests from my surprised yell of pain. The beeping noise gets louder and faster, and I just want it to stop.
A young woman in blue scrubs walks into my peripheral. “Hello there, sunshine. Glad to see you’re finally awake.” My brows furrow. At my confusion, she continues in a low voice, “You’re at Memorial Hospital. An ambulance brought you in here a couple days ago, do you remember?”
Oh. No. I don’t remember the ambulance, but I do remember what preceded it. She smiles sadly in understanding at my tortured expression, nodding. “Your neck is going to be sore for a few weeks, no doubt, but there doesn’t seem to have been any permanent damage. I’ll give you a whiteboard to use while you’re here.” Reading the question in my eyes, she answers, “Now that you’re awake, you’ll only be here another day for observation, and then you’ll be free to go.”
I don’t bother nodding. I wish I had that whiteboard now though; I want to know if Ben is alive or not. The nurse fusses with my IV for a minute then says, “Get some rest, honey. The more rest you get, the faster you’ll heal.” With that, she walks out.
My body is apparently on par with the nurse’s orders, because I don’t remember anything after that until I hear a toilet flush and water running. I peel my eyes open to follow the source, and see Declan walk out of the bathroom in my peripheral. What is he doing here? Where the fuck is my whiteboard?
Declan turns to see me awake and confused, and he walks over to me with a small smile. “Hey, Meg. How are you feeling?” Like I’ve been choked. I just raise my eyebrows at him. I really don’t think it requires comment.
He catches on and smiles sheepishly. What the hell? Declan is sheepish about nothing. “Right. Well, I…” He stops and clears his throat. “I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to apologize.” Apologize?
He sits in the seat next to my bed and holds on to one of my hands, staring at it intently. “It’s my fault you were attacked. It’s my fault you weren’t protected. I knew weird shit was happening and I had my suspicions, But I was so caught up in our relationship that I never thought to pull my head out of my ass and consider past my own needs to your safety.” He finally brings his eyes to mine, the moss-green orbs glazed with his unshed tears.
He’s crazy to think this was his fault. I was the one ignoring the signs. Where is my whiteboard? These words are doing no good staying in my head. I lift the hand he isn’t holding and start writing on air, hoping he’ll get the idea. He does, grabbing the board and marker that were lying on a side table. The nurse must’ve brought it during the night.
Regrettably, I have to lift my other hand from under his so I can write. “Bullshit. I did it to myself. Ignored the signs.”
He reads and shakes his head, looking back to me. “The fuck it is. I should have been there to protect you.”
“Life isn’t like movies, remember? You helped prepare me. I used what you taught.☺”
He huffs out a laugh. “No, Meg. Don’t you see?” His gaze searches mine, imploringly.
“See what?”
“I should have been there. If I hadn’t been in denial for weeks on end, you and I would have been together. I could have prevented this.”
“Been together?”
“Yeah, baby. I fucking love you. I’ve loved you since the first time I met you. I saw your smile light up the room and I was a selfish-enough bastard to want to keep it for myself.” I’m stunned. My hand/voice stays limply at my side, so he continues. “You asked me a question once, ‘why now?’ and I didn’t answer, right?” I give a tiny nod. “It wasn’t that I’d just noticed you, Meg. I knew exactly who you were, and what you would mean to me if I let it happen. When you started to actively pursue me, I decided not to hold back anymore. If you were ready, I was ready.” He huffs a self-deprecating laugh. “That’s what I thought, anyway. When you told me you loved me, I freaked the fuck out.”
This warrants comment. “Obviously,” I write.
He nods in agreement. “You were it for me, Meg, and I knew it. At the last second, at the moment it counted, I hesitated.”
“And you’re not hesitating now? Because I almost got killed?” I ask out of genuine curiosity, not sure if I like that being his only motivation.
“I tried to call you, Meg. That night. I thought you were ignoring me, so I went to your place to force you to listen and I drove up on a scene that gave me a fucking heart attack.” I vaguely remember hearing my phone ring during the struggle and realize it must have been him. “You were unresponsive in some cop’s arms. There were ambulances and a fucking fire truck. Emergency response people swarming the whole goddamn place.”
Wow. That sounds excessive, considering both participants were out cold. Speaking of which… “Where’s Ben?”
He looks downright proud. “He bled out, Meg.”
“Really?” I’m almost shaking with relief, but I need reassurance.
“You got him in the stomach and that guy was on a fuck-ton of medication, not that it did him any good. The doctor said one had a side effect of being a blood thinner. You’ll never have to worry about him again, Meg.”
Oh, my God. Those words should cause me to feel guilt, but I don’t. I can’t. I’m so overwhelmed with the freedom, the weight lifting from my shoulders. I can be me again.
Declan’s image starts to swim as my eyes fill with tears. He leans forward briefly and kisses my cheek lightly. “I’m so proud of you, Meg.”
I wipe the tears away to clear up my vision. “I heard your voice. Telling me not to give up.”
He leans forward again. “Meg. Please, forgive me. I was scared. I was scared to take the leap. You’re it for me, Meg. You always have been. I’m sorry I pushed you away.” Tears stream down his face.
Despite his being an asshole to me, I know what he’s saying is true. I can see it in his eyes, earnest and vulnerable. And he finally answered my question.
When I pull back out of his hands, his previously hopeful face falls.
“I thought the same thing.”
He turns his confused face to mine. “About what?”
“When I first saw you,” I write. When I see he’s read that, I wipe it away and continue. “I saw you smile for the first time. I wanted to be the reason you did that.” I erase that after he’s read it. “Then I heard you laugh. I wanted that sound to keep me warm at night. It was like nothing I’d ever heard before, and I knew it was one of a kind.”
I’ve watched his face transform ever since I pulled away from his hands. First from sad, to afraid as I started to write, to amusement as I mention his smile and our shared thought, and love as I write about his laugh.
I place the board and marker down on my lap and grip
his face in my hands. He breathes out, “I love you, Meg. Will you let me love you?”
I smile and pull his face to mine in answer, kissing him. When he moves back, he’s sporting a shit-eating grin. “Thank fuck. Although, you know I’d have never let you go, no matter what you said.”
I roll my eyes playfully at him then pick up the board and marker again. “So, this is it? I can use my own name and credit cards again?”
“Yeah, baby. No more looking over your shoulder.”
A thought occurs to me and I write, “Lily? I need to call her!” I need to tell her what happened! Or text, or something.
He reads my panic and laughs, “She’s on her way. I called her the morning after you got here, got her a plane ticket.” He looks at his watch. “Allie should be here with her soon, only left to get her from the airport.”
Oh, shit, Allie! She must have been shocked to learn everything I’ve been keeping from her. I cringe. She must hate me. I didn’t mean to lie to her; I just didn’t want her to worry. Declan picks up on my anxiety. “Don’t worry. She’s your best friend and she loves you. Wiley and I sat her down when she got here to explain what was going on. She was more afraid for your health than angry at how she didn’t know.”
I close my eyes. I hope he’s right. I couldn’t live with myself if she hated me.
From the doorway, I hear, “Oh, I’m angry, all right.” My eyes fly to Allie as she walks towards me, careful not to move my head. She stops by my bedside, not looking angry at all. “But I understand. Can’t maintain a secret identity if it’s not secret.”
I smile gratefully at her acceptance and she leans down to kiss my cheek. She straightens and puts her hands on her hip, her expression turning serious again. “When you’re better, I will have to kick your ass in punishment. Just know that.”
A breathy snort erupts, the only evidence of a laugh, so I write on my board, “I understand.”
At her nod, I remember where she came from and I search behind Allie, looking for Lily. When I don’t see her, I start to write, “Where’s—” But I’m interrupted by a gasp. I look up again.
