He looks at me like he’s seen a ghost. He looks down at a sleeping Ellie on my shoulder. He sticks his head out into the hallway and checks both directions before he grabs my arm and pulls me inside, pushing the stroller in after us.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, closing the door behind me.
I find it hard to speak, looking into his eyes. I’ve dreamed about these eyes. The eyes that can’t seem to decide on a color. His dark-blonde hair is longer than it was last year. Edgier. And his five o’clock shadow . . . He’s everything I remembered and more.
And for the millionth time over the past six months, I scold myself for leaving the hospital the way I did. For leaving him.
But I did what I had to do. What I thought was right at the time.
He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. I don’t know him well enough to read what’s behind his eyes. He looks angry. He looks relieved. He looks confused.
“Are you in trouble?” he asks, holding out his arm in an invitation for me to go into his living room.
I look around the expansive room. Oh, my God. I knew this building was in a nice area, but this is . . . I don’t even know. This is unreal.
“Kyle, do you live with your parents?”
He shakes his head. “No. I live here alone. Can we not change the subject, please? Are you in trouble?” he asks in an irritated and impatient tone.
Still distracted, my jaw drops as I look around and take in the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the city, the chef’s kitchen with oversized refrigerator, the big-screen television.
Ellie squirms in my arms trying to get comfortable, causing me to break my gaze of our surroundings. “Uh, sorry. No,” I tell him.
He blows out a breath as if he’s relieved. “Do you want to lay her down?” he asks, pointing to the sofa.
I nod and gently lay her down on the exquisite soft leather, propping up pillows to keep her from rolling off.
“What’s her name?” he asks, looking down at her. “You know, since you ran off without ever telling me that—or anything for that matter.”
I close my eyes in shame. I know I have a lot of explaining to do. It’s just that I still haven’t figured out how. After all, how do you tell the man you want to be with that you’re married? And that your husband beat you, demeaned you, raped you. And that you’ll always be married to him so you can protect your daughter.
“Her name is Ellie,” I tell him.
“Nice name,” he says. “I guess there were already too many girls named Alexa.”
My eyes widen in horror when he says my real name. I instinctively reach for Ellie so I can pick her up and protect her, but Kyle stands in my way.
“No,” he says. “Let her sleep.”
“I . . . how?” My heartbeat is pounding in my ears. My throat becomes thick, and tears pool in my eyes, threatening to spill onto my cheeks.
How could he know? I was so careful. More than a year and nobody has recognized me. He hasn’t found me.
“Eliz—” He shakes his head. “Alexa, it’s okay. You’re safe here. I know everything.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, biting back the sob rattling in my chest.
I eye the front door and then the balcony. I wonder if there is a fire escape. I find myself needing to know where all the exits are in case I need to run. Old habits are hard to break.
“Sit,” he says, pointing to the sofa Ellie is lying on. “I’ll tell you what I know. But first, let me get you a drink. Water? Beer? Something stronger?”
I look around his place again. It’s nice. Christian-Grey nice. He’s got money. People with money think they can buy anything. And if they can’t buy it, sometimes they just take it.
Stop it, Lexi, I tell myself. Kyle is not Grant. Back at the hospital, he was nothing like him. He was helpful and kind and funny and . . . everything I didn’t know I wanted in a man. And I left. Then I started to make a life for myself and for Ellie.
And now I might be risking everything to come back.
I trust my instincts and sit down on his sofa. “Water is fine.”
He walks to his kitchen, never taking his eyes off me as if he thinks I’m going to run away again. After he reaches into his refrigerator, he pulls out his phone and taps the screen a few times. It looks like he’s sending a text. I want to ask to whom, but I lost the right to that information when I walked out of the hospital.
Then his doorbell rings and I jump to my feet, ready to pick up Ellie and make my escape.
“Elizabeth, it’s okay—sorry . . . Alexa. I ordered a pizza. I thought you were the pizza guy.”
I let out a long breath. “Oh.”
I sit back down as he hands me my water and makes his way to the door.
He puts the pizza on the coffee table and sits in the chair next to the couch. He leans forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Grant came to the hospital a few days ago.”
My heart stops. It stops beating and I die for a second.
I look over at Ellie, small and innocent, her little chest rising and falling as she sleeps peacefully. I don’t want her to live in a world where men like her father even exist. I’m scared for her. Everything I do is about this girl. Loving her. Protecting her.
I wipe the tears that cloud my vision as I watch her sleep.
Then my heart starts beating again. It thunders in my chest as I realize what is happening. I stand up, ready to pull Ellie in my arms and race out of here. “Is that who you just texted? Oh, God, Kyle, did you tell Grant where I am?”
“No,” he says, standing up with me. “Hell, no. I would never do that, Elizabeth—Damn it!—Alexa. I told you you’re safe here. Sit down and let me explain.”
Maybe I was wrong to come here. I waited too long. Just another mistake in the long list of epic mistakes I’ve made in my life. Marrying Grant. Letting him control me the way he did. Being naïve enough to think things would get better.
“Alexa,” Kyle says, motioning to the couch. “Please.”
I take a deep breath and sit back down on his sofa, bracing myself for what he’s about to tell me.
“He didn’t tell me he was your husband. He flashed his badge, making it seem like he was on the job even though he wasn’t NYPD. I gave him a made-up story about you coming in for stitches. I said you were heading out of town for a job interview. The only reason I know your real name is because I saw his tattoo. He didn’t mention the fact that you were pregnant. Did he not know?”
I shake my head.
He lets out a sigh. A sigh so deep it looks like he’s in pain. “He hurt you,” he says.
It’s not a question.
I nod.
“And you left him when you found out you were pregnant.” He looks over at Ellie. “You left to protect her.”
I nod again.
“But why, Alexa? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you trust me? Why the hell did you just run off and leave me?” he asks, his voice cracking in anguish. “I could have helped you, you know.”
“Kyle, I’m sorry. You’re frustrated with me. I deserve it. I know you have a lot of questions and I have a lot of explaining to do, but no, you couldn’t have helped me. You still can’t. Not when it comes to Grant. He’s a cop, Kyle.”
“Yeah, I know, in narcotics,” he says.
My eyes shoot to his.
“My brother is a private investigator, Alexa. It wasn’t too hard to put everything together once I knew your name.”
“Lexi,” I say.
“What?”
“My name. It’s Lexi. It’s what everyone has always called me.” I look at the floor. “Everyone but him.”
There’s another knock on the door, and again, I look at it in trepidation. Yet I also feel a sense of relief, because now I have a few more moments to gather my thoughts. To figure out all that I need to tell him.
“Relax,” he says, sensing my fear. “It’s all good.”
I watch him cross the room, my heart pounding as I try to figure out if I can trust him. I want to trust him. I might even need to trust him. But trusting men is not exactly my strong suit.
He opens the door and I cry out. I cry out as I race across the room and jump into the arms of my brother.
I look back at Kyle, tears streaming down my face.
“It’s okay, Lexi,” Kyle says, smiling at our sibling reunion. “Catch up with Caden. There will be plenty of time for us to talk later.”