“So what are we doing on the floor?”

It wasn’t the words that shocked me as much as the person that said them. Angel couldn’t be silent if her very life depended on it, and somehow, she snuck into the office as quiet as a butterfly and caught me curled up and sobbing in her boyfriend’s lap.

As Angel and Gabe like to say, shit piss hell damn.

There was no way I could act like nothing was going on, and I didn’t even have the words to explain that it wasn’t what it looked like, and Angel was a very excitable person. Convincing her that Gabe and I didn't have tryst on the office floor was going to be difficult. Angel was kind of a knock ‘em around first, ask questions later kind of person.

I pushed off of Gabe’s lap, elbowing him in the collarbone as I did. I felt bad when I heard his groan of pain, but I needed to separate myself from him. From this terrible scene that Angel had walked in on. I needed a few seconds to breathe and get my shit together because I needed to prepare myself to look Angel in the eye and see…

Well, what I expected to see was not what I saw.

Angel was leaning on the counter looking like she wanted to vault over the top of it much like Gabe did earlier, but I doubt her short legs would let her. Instead of the mask of rage I expected to see on her face, angry at catching me in a compromising position with Gabe, there was something else.

Sadness?

Her nose was red and there were mottled pink marks on her cheeks and neck. Her eyes had that glassy, watery glaze and as she looked at me – she sniffled.

“Is everyone okay?”

“Are you okay?” I countered. What the hell was going on here?

Her lower lip trembled as she attempted to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

“Why are you crying?” I asked her while dashing the sleeve of my suit jacket across my own eyes.

“I don’t know,” she wailed, and the crying started, deep hiccupping sobs that shook her shoulders as she squeezed her eyes tight to stop the flow. “But you are crying, and Gabe is crying and I can’t handle seeing other people cry. Are you okay, what’s going on, did somebody die?” And realizing that she was too short to come over the counter, she reached over and grabbed me, squeezing me close to her roughly. It was horribly awkward, hugging over my desk and the half wall in front of it, but it was also strangely comforting. And weird.

I had no choice but to hang out there and let her hug it out though. Not unless I wanted to straighten and pull her over the wall with me. It took her a while to let go, too. When she did, and I was able to stand up straight again I glanced over at Gabe.

He was wrecked.

He wasn’t crying, at least not anymore, but his face was a mix of ashen gray and fire engine red and his eyes were bloodshot and wet. It gutted me, standing there looking at his face.

I did that to him.

I lost my shit and cowered away from him, like he was some big bad monster, when he had only been a savior to me. A friend.

I had made him feel like a predator.

It killed me to think I had such little control over myself that I could let my fear spill over. Dammit I was strong than this. I had worked for so long to be tougher, physically and mentally. I was supposed to be in a good place now, and I had a backslide into terror - over what? Over seeing Justin whatever-his-last-name-was for twenty seconds? Sure, it was completely unexpected, but my disguise was so good that I had him convinced he had the wrong person in less than a minute. It had been over six years since anyone had seen or heard of Gabriella Hensley, who knew if Justin even talked to David anymore? If he was still a cop in New York then what the hell was he doing in Toledo, Ohio?

No. It was a fluke, a freak test of my composure that I had obviously failed. It would do me no good to get that worked up over a minor B character when the boss level was so much more dangerous. No, that Justin guy was nothing but a red shirt. And here I was falling to pieces because I thought my hiding place was found.

No, I had time. I had people now, or at least a person. Gabe, he was in my corner. I wasn’t alone like I was before. I wasn’t a scared girl with an entire town against her. I was a woman. A strong woman.

I was Jeanette fucking Clary and I was a badass bitch.

A badass bitch who had some explaining to do because out of the three people in the office, one of them was still crying without a clue as to why.

“It’s okay, Angel,” I started to say but was cut off completely by Gabe.

“No, it’s fucking not okay.” Gabe might have sounded authoritative if not for the hitch in his voice as he tried to catch his breath over something suspicious clogging his throat. Probably emotion. I tried not to have those but clearly, I failed in that too because I was twisted in agony over putting Gabe through what I had just done. He didn’t deserve that from me, not after everything he had done. He was right. We had grown to be partners and I had just slammed a door in my partner’s face.

Damn. I wasn’t ready to tell. I wasn’t ready to say, but they needed something. Angel standing there with tears streaming down her cheeks and she didn’t even know the reason she was crying. And Gabe, stoic Gabe who was the best big brother a girl could ever have. Especially a girl who had never had any family of her own to speak of.

“Okay, you are right, it’s not okay and I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want me to give you right now.” I pulled at the bottoms of my jacket to straighten it. My straight-laced and buttoned-up work clothes, so different from anything I would have ever worn as a younger woman, as Gabriella, were my armor. My protection. My disguise. They were my false sense of security, but at least while I was dressed like this I could ground myself in my new identity and gather up my scattered wits. I could at least pretend to have half my shit together. No sense riling up Angel and Gabe. One of them was a serial crier and the other one had a hero complex. But damn those two were so good, and together they were great. They deserved so much more than my hedging and lies.

I took a deep breath, braced myself, and began. “Angel, I’m not sure what Gabe has told you about m-“

“Not a thing,” she interrupted before I was even finished with my sentence. “I never asked, and he wouldn’t tell even if I did. That’s your story, Jeanette, and man I would love it if someday you trusted me enough to tell it.”

That was it. That was all she said to me, and as Angel stood there, looking at me with the tracks of tears she had shed for me still drying on her cheeks I could only think of what an amazing woman Gabe had found for himself. I had never seen a person look more mature than Angel after that statement, even though she was wearing a pair of bedazzled Converse and a t-shirt that said, “Not today, Satan.” And I was proud of Gabe and happy for him and devastated for myself all at the same time because I would never find that perfect other half of me. Nope. I would live a lie for the rest of my life but at least I would be safe.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, for lack of a better option or words to express my gratitude at her simple acceptance. “I’m not ready yet, but I’m trying. I’m really trying.”

Gabe and I both were taking up too much room in the small space behind my desk, and I was suddenly feeling very claustrophobic. Whether it was because I was confined with another person in such a cramped area or because my thoughts were squeezing down on me I don’t know, but I suddenly felt like I had to leave. I needed to go somewhere and think. To breathe.

“Gabe, I think I need to cut out early today. It’s been kind of a wash, yeah? I don’t think I can see any clients today looking like this,” I gestured to my tear-stained face, with what I could only assume had mascara running down like a deranged goth clown. “I’m going to go home.”

“I’m scared to let you go.” I knew his words had a double meaning. He was scared I was going to run. And shit, I might. The jury was out on that yet, but I could give him a little bit. He deserved more notice than coming into the office and finding me gone.

“I won’t run…yet.” And that was all the promise I could give him. That for the time being, I would breathe and be and stay. But it wasn’t indefinite, because if it came time for me to make a choice between staying in Toledo and getting caught by David Ashley again, or running for my life – I would chuck my sensible pumps and run like my life fucking depended on it. Because it did. I couldn’t go back to that nightmare, and Gabe knew it. So when he nodded towards the door and made no move to stop me, I knew how much it cost him. Gabe was the type of guy that had to help if he knew there was a problem. He didn’t expect shit back for it either.

Sometimes being born with a silver spoon in your mouth makes you a greedy little shit. But for Gabe, it just meant that he was free to do what he wanted without worrying about getting something back. And Gabe fucking liked helping people. That’s why I knew it wouldn’t be long before he wouldn’t be able to take it behind the desk anymore. He would need to go back in the field, it was only a matter of time. He should start his own security company, I bet he would be good at that. No, I know he would be good at that. I would love to help him too, but who knew if I would be able to stay and be a part of that with him. With Angel too.

Shit. I needed to get out of there.

I didn’t say anything else as I slung my plain brown hobo bag over my shoulder and walked toward the door. I brushed past Angel and she grabbed my hand briefly and squeezed, I imagined her sending all her love and support into that squeeze. She was so cute. Love and support could have saved me from David in the beginning, but I didn't think it was enough to save me if he found me now. Not after he almost killed me, and I got away.

But I couldn’t think about that right this minute. I was just going to go home to my apartment and get my mind right. I could think about what I would do next after I calmed down and could think rationally.

I felt their eyes on the back of my neck as I walked towards the door. One step, two steps, three steps…I was almost free.

“Jeanette, we love you.”

Dammit, Gabe. I had almost convinced myself that I could leave you here. Leave this life. But you had to say that to me at the last minute.

I didn’t stop, I didn’t turn around, I just kept right on going. Down three flights of stairs because fuck that slow-ass service elevator, and out to the parking lot where my nondescript and completely bland gray Kia was parked. I didn’t show it, but his words had speared through me like he had hurled a weapon and it found its bullseye.

It wasn’t a romantic notion, but no one had loved me in my whole entire life. Except for David Ashley.

And his love was the killing kind.

* * *

Maybe it was the cool autumn air, or maybe it was just being out of arm’s length of those two emotional amplifiers, but once in my car, with the radio blaring P!nk’s “Fucking Perfect” I was actually starting to feel a little better. More calm maybe, definitely more centered. I had survived worse, this was just a little hiccup. I could not let fear ride me for the rest of my life. This was my first “close call” in six years, and odds were, it wouldn’t be my last. I needed a contingency plan. I needed to fight it out.

At home I walked through the sparse living room barely sparing it a glance. The room housed a couch, a coffee table and a small stand that the TV sat on. It was a great quality television, but the stand was cheap as was the coffee table and the couch. I could afford better, but what was the point? I was prepared to drop my life at a moment’s notice. It wasn’t good to become attached to material things that I would just have to leave behind.

My bedroom had a full-sized bed, I didn’t need anything bigger since I didn’t have plans to share it with anyone. There had been many a night where I had lain there, fantasizing about taking Dino for a test drive, but that would never happen. And the Dino in my dreams had much less of a smart mouth than the real one did. He would never see the inside of this apartment anyway. I changed my clothes quickly, routinely, the same thing I did every day when I came home from the office, albeit today was a bit earlier than normal.

I changed out of my slacks and jacket and hung them up in my closet, next to several other similar outfits that I wore to work. They were all varying shades of boring as shit. I missed wearing bold colors. I missed wearing clothes that showed off my curves – fuck I missed having curves, but I did what I had to do to survive. In the grand scheme of things losing my boobs was probably the least of my worries. I paid good money for that reduction, and the surgeon had done an excellent job. Gabe had raised his eyebrows when I had asked for a surgical recommendation, but he didn’t comment on why I chose to have my chest reduced in size by half. It did exactly what it was supposed to do, and changed my appearance. You can change your hair (and I did), and you can change your eyes with contacts or by wearing glasses, but a woman with big boobs always tends to be a woman with big boobs. I blended better into anonymity with my B cups. Plus, they were perky as hell and that was kind of nice too. I never had the joy of being able to go braless when I was sporting double D’s.

I changed into my workout clothes with a sort of autonomy that comes with repeating the same motion over and over. Every day I did the same thing. Without fail unless I was sick and that had only happened three times in the last six years. First, I pulled on my hip skimming leggings. I used to love the high-waisted kind because they held in my rounded tummy when I exercised, but I’d lost so much weight there wasn’t much left to jiggle, so I found the lower rise more comfortable. The sports bra with the zip front – now that was an old habit I just couldn’t break. When I had a much larger chest the zip front bras were absolutely necessary, because trying to wiggle out of a sweaty sports bra after a hard workout when you have heavy boobs is a one-way ticket to a dislocated shoulder. It was a little easier to shuck my sweaty gym clothes now that I had less in my way, but I just loved those zip fronts.

Normally I wore a simple tank over my bra but today I was too worked up, in too much of a hurry to worry overly much about it. I was working out in my own home, and I needed to start punching and kicking at the heavy bag I had hanging in the place a dining room table would normally be. I needed the satisfying feel of a perfect cross hitting the vinyl with a solid thwack. Some people eat their emotions, I punched and kicked them away. It probably wasn’t the most emotionally healthy way to deal with my problems, but when had I ever been operating on a full tank of gas anyway?

My dining room had been converted into a small gym station. I had a free weight rack against one corner and a small weight bench that I got at Wal Mart pushed against the wall next to it. I wasn’t a powerlifter by any means, so that small set-up suited me just fine. Next to that was the rolled-up yoga mat that I always grabbed first because stretches are important so as not to rip your muscles apart when you do the kind of workouts I did.

Mountain pose, stretch and hold. Warrior one to triangle, stretch and hold. Downward dog and bridge. I stretched and held each pose until my muscles quivered. Routine, routine, routine. So weird that someone who was as free as a young woman could only feel centered and function when I was doing my preset routine. Life was funny that way. People think that yoga is easy, but it isn’t. It’s still work, and my body was already warm by the time I pulled out of the last pose and rolled my mat up, placing it upright against the wall in its proper place. I would grab it again for cool down stretches but for now I needed to get it out of the way. The room was small, and the best way to utilize the space I had was to keep it tidy. I was just getting out my hand wraps for bag work when my doorbell rang. I almost didn’t recognize the sound it was so foreign to me. I’d lived in this condo for over a year and no one had ever rung the doorbell before. Hell, Gabe was the only person who had ever been inside the front door and that was because he helped me move in.

Nobody came to my house to visit. I didn’t have friends, I had acquaintances, and we weren’t the type to “hang out” together. I also had a no soliciting sign in the window to let the vacuum salesman and over-enthusiastic Girl Scout crack peddlers know I wasn’t interested.

Who the hell was at my door?