“Sterling,” I greet him entering the house. “Why are you here?”

He shrugs.

“I called Mom last night,” Wes’ voice resonates through the house. I look around and find him outside, sitting by the patio. “It didn’t make sense to me that she didn’t know.”

The words ring in my head like a cymbal crash. Did Linda have any idea? I find my strength and walk toward the backdoor like a skinless snake on broken glass. I lean against the door frame. He’s sitting by the table focusing on his computer.

“Did you tell her?” I square my shoulders shooting him a venomous look.

He shakes his head. “She already knew because of Ava’s forensic report. Mom and Dad assumed but never pushed you to tell them any details.”

That’s a freaking lie. They pushed me to talk. Linda insisted on therapy. She asked me if something had happened to me that night. If the man had touched me. I responded with the truth.

“No, that guy never touched me.” I hid the rest.

“Do you know that the report says, Ava Lyons-Stanley?”

My eyes open wide, and I shake my head.

“Nothing in those documents make sense. Corbin said that he loved you two like his own. I have so many questions. I find it strange that after the forensic report they didn’t question him again.” He shrugs, glued to his computer. “Anyway, Mom worries about you and for some reason she thought it’d be a good idea to have Sterling with us.”

The Wes who listened to my story is gone. This version of him is controlling and doesn’t care about the people around him—including me. I hoped I was wrong and that he wouldn’t look at me differently, but I’d already felt him changing as I told my story. Our bond snapped like a fragile twig being stepped on by a child. I lost him, or I never had him in the first place.

“What are you doing, Weston?” I can’t help but ask.

If he’s going to end it, he might as well do it right now. I know that face, the posture. He’s working on something. Obsessed. He’s throwing himself back into work and trying to ignore me. I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m not the girl he wanted. The pure, defenseless Abigail Lyons.

“Doing some research,” he answers. “I’m talking to my lawyer about your house.”

The blood drains from my face. No, no. I need to scream, but my body has become petrified stone, and my voice disappears.

“He’s going to send you a power of attorney, so he can proceed on your behalf.”

The air becomes hot and heavy. I stiffen, shivering with anger and fear.

“Let it be,” I say harshly. “You shouldn’t be fixing what’s not broken.”

“Your grandmother left it to you,” he refutes, matching my tone. “Both the house and money you haven’t claimed.”

“I don’t need the money.”

He stands up, nostrils flaring. He clenches his jaw so tightly that I can hear his teeth grinding.

“You can donate it or do whatever you want. That’s only the beginning. He has to pay.” He slams the table. “Corbin Stanley deserves to be in jail!”

I take a step backward, my heart beating fast. This man, the Weston in front of me is unrecognizable. He’s thirsty for vengeance. I have no idea where I stand. Where’s my Wes? The guy who’d be taking me into his arms and telling me that no matter what, I’m his Abby.

He’s in my head. He’s a figment of my imagination. The perfect guy I built out of desperation when I was on the edge, ready to kill myself. While I ran, I decided to be strong for myself. If I couldn’t save anyone, at least I should try to pull myself together.

“This isn’t your problem,” I say calmly. “It’s mine to deal with.”

“Children, stop this nonsense!” Sterling steps closer and gives me a note.

“He hasn’t told me what’s going on,” Sterling says. “But assuming that your PTSD symptoms are worsening. My suggestion is to seek help from a professional, but know that I’m here to support you.”

“I just want it to go away,” I wail in frustration. “Not remember what happened to Ava or to me. That part of my life is over.”

“Done.” I collapse on the floor, beginning to cry. “It has to be over because if it’s not, he’s going to find me and torture me before he kills me.”

I’m not afraid of dying but of how he’d do it. Breaking me emotionally, mentally, and physically until I couldn’t continue anymore. Then maybe he might pull the trigger. Unless he decided to torture me for as long as he lives.

No matter how long I cry, the tears don’t stop. This time though, Wes scoops me into his arms. He cradles me for a long time without saying a word. I think he knows there’s nothing he can say to fix it. I’m beyond repair.

Once I’m all cried out, I finally speak, “I want to leave today.”

I move away from his hold, peeling myself off of him. If I continue depending on his strength, I won’t be able to stand on my own two feet.

“Where?”

“Denver,” I respond because I had a plan years ago that I should’ve followed through with when I saw what was happening to Ava. “Tonight, maybe tomorrow.”

“We’re staying here. You don’t have to go back.”

“I’m only going back to pack my things and change my bank accounts.” I clear my tears.

“We can have someone do all of that for you,” he says.

“No, I need my car,” I continue explaining. “Your dad left me a nice trust. I can start a new life with it. Away from the past and where no one knows me.”

“Abby, please think about this.” His face goes ashen.

“I am. I did for a long time. This is never going away, Wes.” I draw circles around my temples with my index fingers. “The PTSD as Sterling called it. Those scars are permanent. No amount of therapy will make me forget that she died because of me. That I couldn’t save her—or myself. I let them do horrible things to us.”

“She wasn’t your responsibility. You’re here, and I want to help you.” Wes sounds and looks defeated.

“Fix me,” I correct him.

“No, Abby.”

“Please, don’t lie to me. You’re already finding out about Corbin. Are you going to go to the police?”

My voice rises. It booms through the house. “You’re just calling more attention toward me. He has friends everywhere. The man’s clients are powerful—politicians visited the house. He has leverage too. Corbin taped everything. You’ll put your family in danger.”

“Abby, you can’t believe that.”

“Are you calling me delusional?” My ears ring with anger. This can’t be happening. “You don’t believe me that they are dangerous, do you?”

The one person I trusted, and he’s no different than everyone else. “Do you believe any part of what I said?”

“Of course I do,” he answers.

“Then stop what you’re doing. You’re already fixating on this, aren’t you?” I walk around the house.

“This is who you are. The guy who gets obsessed with an imperfection and tries to find a way to make it functional.” My words fall out like a frantic mess, like frenzied bees shaken out of their nest. There has to be a way to stop him. Maybe I should leave him—them. They might be in danger.

“I’m not a computer or some stupid gadget that’s broken. The good news is that I won’t be around for you to see my flaws.”

“Abby,” he marches toward me.

“Stop,” I order him. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, but your duty is done. Have you stopped to think that your behavior might be hurting me?”

He stares at me. The silence sucks the air out of the room.

“Abby, please. What’s going on? You can’t think about leaving. You promised,” he says with a shaky voice. “I swore to protect you.”

“Just let me go,” I plead.

Weston takes a step back. My decision to leave isn’t a light one. I won’t be safe unless I disappear. And what if Corbin and Shaun decide to hurt Wes and his family to get to me? Am I being delusional and paranoid? My mind is in turmoil, I can’t think straight. I should just leave. A trip to Canada or Mexico might be in order. I could stay there for a few months while I look for a place to call home.

I pack a few things and call an Uber, but as I make my way to the stairs, Sterling is there holding the kennel in one hand and his duffle bag in the other.

“Ready?”

“Where are you going?”

“Back home,” he says. “Denver.”

“That poor dog is going to hate you,” I point at Terry who is playing with a bone.

“Nah, he loves it.”

Wes is nowhere to be found. I’m both relieved and saddened.

“If you’re looking for my brother, he’s in the car.”

My shoulders sag because I don’t think I can survive a flight with him.

Sterling adds, “He’s driving us to the airport. Unless, you want to stay with him and fix your relationship.”

I deflate at his suggestion. Wouldn’t it be nice?

“Slugger, that’s not possible. He wants someone who doesn’t exist. I tried to be her, but … I can’t.”

Sterling shakes his head. “Go where I told you. Find out who you want to be.”

He says it as if it’s so simple. It’s much more complicated than just talking about my feelings and starting meds to kill my anxiety. I don’t tell him anything. Maybe he’s right and this place can give me peace. That’s all I need.

The drive to the airport is quiet. This kind of thick silence that sucks the air around us and poisons the soul. Tensing against the shaking of my limbs is useless, but I do it instinctively, trying to suppress the sadness that’s overwhelmingly painful. I need a drink to counteract the fear that threatens to engulf me. On second thought, I should stop drinking so much. It numbs my mind only for a few hours and then everything comes back sharper and more painful.

Wes parks the car by the curve. I rush out taking my bag from the trunk and securing my purse over my shoulder. Before I take a step forward, I turn around and meet his gaze. He’s staring at me, his eyes filled with moisture.

“Thank you,” I say, swallowing my feelings and all the tears. “For everything. You were my rock since the day I met you. I wish ...”

What do I wish?

I have no idea anymore.

For him to give me one last hug.

I wish for one last kiss.

For him to accept me and love me the way I really am.

I don’t want him to fix me but to accept my brokenness, as he called it last night.

“It’s killing me,” he mumbles. “Will you ever come back to me?”

Would you ever love me the way I am?

He scans my face waiting for an answer. Silence hangs in the air like the suspended moment before falling glass shatters on the ground. I chew my lip unsure of what to say. Any response might be a freaking lie.

I open my mouth, but I can’t form any words.

“I’m still yours, Abby,” he cries out loud. “Forever.”

I love you, I swallow the words.

“Take care, Wes.” Detaching myself from my feelings, I say, “Please, don’t do anything stupid. Let the dead rest in peace.”