Chapter 32.

 

Michele

 

I woke up with a headache, to blinding sun and a silent apartment.

When I opened my eyes and came to, I was lying with my head half off of my pillow, the edge of it cutting off the circulation to my neck. When I rolled over, it began to tingle, feeling returning, with a throb in my head to match.

There were no noises outside of my room, which reminded me that Shannon and Evan were gone, something I still hadn’t gotten used to. They would be back in less than a week, though, and I was looking forward to it.

Sitting up, I let the covers slide down, chill air meeting my warm skin, and I got out of bed. After using the bathroom, I started a pot of coffee, flipping on the TV and half-listening to the morning news.

It had been a little over a week since that night at Catfish. Someone was looking for you. I still wanted to know so desperately who that was - just to quiet my troubled mind. None of my regulars had told me they’d left the message. But the more time that passed, the less sure I was that it was actually Brandon.

After all this time, would he really come to Brooklyn just to one-up me?

But that was a stupid question. He’d hired Iain, hadn’t he? Brandon was not the type to let sleeping dogs lie. Brandon finished what he started.

Brandon claimed what was his. It was only a matter of time.

Goosebumps sprang up on my skin, and I rubbed my arms, heading into my bedroom to pull my bathrobe on. I went back to the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee, adding cream and sugar and taking a scalding sip.

What was it that made someone tick the way he did? Was it upbringing? Disposition? I recalled my sister, the first night I’d met him. At the charity event. I’d been so dazzled, so taken by his charm and good looks.

“He’s a little intense, Shelly,” she’d said, fidgeting with her watch. “I’ve been working with him for a couple of years now, and he’s got a reputation.” She’d said the word, reputation, like some sort of swear word. Her eyes had flicked from him across the room to me. “You know, with women.”

I hadn’t known. I hadn’t cared. All I knew was that he was a hell of a lot older than me and I let him have his way with me. I let him have his way with me for years, until I decided enough was enough.

But no more. I couldn’t even bear to imagine him taking me back home, to that house.

That prison.

Thinking of Iain’s words was enough to make my breath catch. If only he knew what he did to me. For the millionth time, I thought of our night together last Friday, of him buried deep inside of me, of the way I’d begged him to take me without a condom. I want to feel you. Every time I thought of it, my core tightened. The way he’d looked so uncertain, the way he fought himself and gave in, had done me in.

I wanted to do it again. Badly.

But dinner last week sprang to mind, too - my doubts, his promises. Then his admission: I can’t promise anything at all to you.

I knew this was hard for him. How could it not be? It was a constant battle between me and my own paranoia - and I was sure he saw that. It probably made him feel helpless.

It made me feel worse.

I heard my phone vibrating and went to go find it. I found it in my coat pocket, draped on the back of the couch, and answered it when I saw who it was.

“Hey, Iain,” I answered, my voice still rough from sleep. I wondered why he’d be up so early in the morning, but realized that the entire time I’d known him, he’d had pretty erratic sleep patterns. No thanks to me.

“Hi,” he responded. There was something off about his tone, and I walked back to the kitchen, grabbing my mug.

“What’s the matter?” I asked, fearing that his mom took a turn for the worse. I realized that he still hadn’t told me about his visit to the hospital, and made it my goal to get that out of him at some point in the next couple of days, if I could. Bottling it up couldn’t be healthy.

“I….” he started, his voice oddly quiet. I waited for him to continue. “I have to tell you something.”

I wasn’t sure what happened next, but something dawned and I knew exactly why he was calling. Dread filled me, the kind specifically reserved for moments of desperation. The calm before the storm.

“Brandon,” I whispered.

He was quiet. I could only hear his breaths. Or maybe they were mine.

Fear, blinding and hot, raced through me. I set my mug down on the counter, leaning against it with one white knuckled hand, my lips parted, mouth dry. My marriage flashed before my eyes, erratic pictures flashing across my mind. Brandon, sometimes loving, but always, always angry.

“Michele,” Iain said, breaking through my thoughts. I didn’t have the strength to stand back up. I didn’t have the strength to say anything. “There’s a couple of cops out front, they’re keeping an eye on your building. Don’t worry. He’s not there.”

“Yet.”

He didn’t say anything to that - all I heard was silence. I didn’t know what to say, either. The moment had come, the moment that I’d been waiting for. What could I do?

“Does he know where I live?” I asked him.

“I’m not sure.”

“Does he know where you live?”

“I’m - I’m pretty sure, yes.”

I stood up, tugging at my hair with my free hand, my eyes blurring as I realized that this was the end. It was always going to end this way - with Brandon coming for me. Why had I allowed myself to think anything else?

“He showed up last night at The Capital,” Iain said. “It’s this bar nearby. I was in the middle of replying to your text, and he knew.” He paused, then said, “He knew everything.”

“How?”

“He said - he said he hired someone. For me. Because - I gave us away.” He sounded so forlorn and sad. “This is all my fault.”

“What do you mean, you gave us away?” I asked, not sure it even mattered at this point. But I wanted to know what exactly our undoing was.

“When I told him I thought you went to Tampa,” he said. “I guess he never told me that. You did. And Brandon, he knew that.” He cursed under his breath, and I clenched the phone tighter against my ear. “You have to go. Leave Brooklyn. Leave the city. Find a small town, not connected to you at all. Pack a bag, buy a one-way ticket. Don’t tell me where it is.”

He wasn’t making sense. Why would I leave Brooklyn? Why would I leave him? Where would I go?

“What?” I asked, forcing myself to stand. The world was dizzy, faded.

“You have to leave. Don’t you see?” He took a ragged breath, and my heart sank. “It’s my fault he’s here at all. I gave you away.”

“What?” I asked again. I felt like a broken record, but I had no idea what else to say. Nothing about this conversation felt real. No amount of imagining Brandon coming here would have actually prepared me for it happening.

“It’s my fault. I couldn’t protect you. And now you have to leave.”

I shook my head, gripping the phone tight against my ear. “No, Iain. I’m not leaving you. If - if Brandon shows up, I’ll just… I’ll figure it out. But I can’t….” I shook my head again. “I can’t leave you. I love you, Iain.”

The silence that followed my words was deafening. I flicked my eyes around the apartment, as if to confirm that I was still alone - as if Brandon could have somehow materialized in my kitchen without my notice. My heart was thumping madly in my chest. Had I seriously just told Iain I loved him? After knowing him for a little less than a month? It was hardly something I’d thought about until this moment, but now that I’d said it, I knew it was the truth. There was no way I could turn away from him now.

“No, you don’t, Michele. You love the idea of me, the security you think I give you. But it’s over. Brandon’s here. I fucked up. I’m begging you - get the hell out of the city while you still can.”

“Iain -”

“We can’t keep living in this fantasy world where we pretend that everything is okay. It’s not okay, Michele. Your husband is here. He showed up at the bar last night just to intimidate me, and he liked it. He threatened us - he intends to do actual harm. He knows everything, and he wants to take you home with him. Is that what you fucking want?”

The raw venom in his voice scared me. I’d never heard Iain angry - emotional, playful, quiet, brooding, yes. But angry?

“Iain, I love you,” I repeated, my voice pleading. “It’s not a fantasy, and it’s not for any of those reasons you said. I love you.” Tears began to burn in my eyes, and I sank to the floor, emotion overtaking me. “Are you saying you don’t love me too?”

His voice was completely void of emotion, entirely cold and calculating. “No, Michele. I don’t.” He paused a beat and then said, “Those two cops outside your building? They’ll take you anywhere you want to go. I suggest a bus station.”

“Iain,” I whispered. His words left me numb, but tears were rolling down my cheeks and not stopping. I wiped at one side of my face roughly, the cloth from my robe merely smearing them over my cheek. “Please don’t do this.”

“Get the hell out of Brooklyn, Michele. I’m serious.”

He sounded serious. I struggled to see clearly, to see it from his angle. Was he using words to hurt me, thinking it would push me away, or did he really mean it? It was impossible to tell.

Staying here without Iain’s support felt like folly. I’d be walking right into Brandon’s grasp. I drew myself back to the present and nodded, hating myself for doing so.

“Okay. I’ll go,” I said, my voice very small.

He hung up after that, the phone going dead silent against my ear. I let it fall to the floor, staring ahead but seeing nothing.

 

xxx

 

In the end, I packed my suitcase, filling it with everything that could fit. I stared at my closet for a long time, my eyes burning from too many tears, and finally shut the door, closing it on the two dresses I’d bought with Iain. I couldn’t bear to take them with me.

They’d only remind me of him.

I had no idea where I’d go. After I was dressed and everything was packed, I peeked out of the living room window, which faced the street. An NYPD car was parked out there, and I swallowed, my mouth and throat too dry for the action to do any good.

I didn’t want to leave. It had only just started to feel like home. I thought about Shannon, of how I’d promised to look after the apartment. Of all the times she’d asked me to take care of Brandon, to settle the loose ends.

I never did, and this was my payback.

Thinking about Iain hurt too much, but I did it anyway. I thought of his phone number, written on that receipt, that night at Catfish. I thought of that smile he reserved just for me, of his gloved hand taking mine in the street. I thought of that concerned look on his face the first day I ever met him.

Are you lost?

If only I’d known. I told myself to stay away from him, but I’d ignored my instincts. And then I fell in too deep.

He didn’t love me back - I heard him loud and clear. As much as it hurt, I couldn’t help but feel like I deserved it, somehow. For leaving Brandon the way I did, for hiding for so long. For letting myself get tempted by another man while I was still technically married. This was all my fault.

Despite my earlier convictions that I was ready to face my fear, I knew I wasn’t. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready to see Brandon again, and definitely not like this.

I grabbed my suitcase and made sure everything was shut off in the apartment. I cast a glance around the empty living room and kitchen. My home of four months that I’d never see again.

I shut the door and locked it behind me, making my way down to the lobby. The doorman hurried to hold the door open for me, and I made my way out onto the cold street, squinting at the cop car.

This was the moment. I wanted nothing more than to go to Iain, to beg him to reconsider.

His cold words, indifferent in my ear, stopped me in my tracks: No, Michele. I don’t.

Had he been having a completely different relationship than me? Had I read his signals all wrong? It was painful to consider that maybe he’d been lying to me all along; maybe I was just something fun for him to pass the time with, but now that trouble came knocking, he was done with me.

At least he had the courtesy to warn me.

I crossed the street toward the cop car, my feet heavy, my suitcase heavier. The second I made contact with those police officers, my life was over here.

Their eyes were on me. The driver’s side door opened, and a uniformed man stepped out, his dark hair closely cropped, his green eyes tired and searching.

“Michele Coffey?” he inquired, watching me closely, his eyes flickering from my suitcase to my face.

“Uh, yes, sir.” Nervousness I couldn’t explain overcame me, and I shuffled in place, making sure I was out of the way of any cars that might try to pass.

“We’ve been told to take you to the bus station, ma’am. I’m Officer Carter, and inside is my partner, Officer Ridley.” Noises came from inside of the car, a woman’s voice over a walkie-talkie, the sound full of static. “Is the bus station where you’d like to go?”

I nodded, but it was a lie. I didn’t really want to go anywhere, but the idea of staying in an apartment where Brandon might find me was too frightening for me to stay.

Once again, he’d taken another choice from me.

Officer Carter took my suitcase, and I got in the back of the police car. The seat was hard and uncomfortable, and I buckled up, staring at the partition between me and the front. I had a sudden, wild fear that they would take me somewhere besides the bus station, that they would take me right to Brandon. And I wouldn’t be able to stop them.

I shook it off, and Carter came back around after slamming the trunk shut, getting back into the car. He turned around and gave me something that resembled a smile, then turned the car on and began to drive.

Brooklyn passed by me as we went. I looked out the window, trying to dissociate myself with what was happening to me. I knew it wasn’t the best thing to do, but the knowledge that I was about to go to a bus station and buy a one-way ticket to who knew where scared the shit out of me. Without even thinking about it, my left thumb reached for my ring finger, seeking my wedding rings.

Once again, I’d forgotten they weren’t there. I let my thumb rub my bare skin, imagining the way my fingers felt before, weighed down by metal and stone. I remembered the day Brandon proposed, at a charity event in front of hundreds of people, of how happy I’d been.

Every memory was tainted. Brandon had ruined everything. Including what I had with Iain.

I bit my lip, holding back tears. I didn’t know where I was going when I got to that bus station, but I hoped it was far away from here.