I can't believe him. The nerve of that guy. I mean, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. He's always been kind of an arrogant jerk. But, to presume to know how I'm feeling? To presume to know me? He's lucky I didn't punch him right in his stupid, arrogant, handsome face.

Of course, I know I'm ignoring the fact that he's right – seeing Mark again did scare the shit out of me. I was so wrapped up in my dad's funeral and sorting through all those emotions that I never stopped to think about coming back here – and all the baggage it entailed.

Mark is my ex-boyfriend for good reasons. Back when I was taking classes at Morro Bay State, Mark and I were together. At first, everything was great. He seemed like such a nice, genuine guy. We had so much in common, and he was sweet and caring. At the time, I really thought I'd found the perfect guy.

That all started to change a few months into the relationship, though. He became possessive. Jealous. Unreasonably so. Mark would get so mad, he’d yell at me for even talking to another guy – even guys who'd been my friends longer than I'd known him. He demanded that I reserve all my free time for him and him alone.

He isolated me from my friends, and even my family to some extent. Around other people, he always played the smooth, charming, nice guy. And he's charismatic enough to pull it off. He reminds me of a cult leader in that respect.

Behind closed doors, however, he turned into a monster. After a while, he started to become increasingly more violent. Not just in his words, but his actions too. He would throw things. Break my possessions. He'd threaten me. I lived in constant fear because of him, scared out of my mind that the wrong word would set him off.

I broke out of my fear the night he slapped my face though.

I don’t know why it took me so long to get to that point, but it did. Until that night, I was content making excuses for him. I dreamed up a thousand different justifications for why he was the way he was, and how it was okay for him to treat me like he did. It was a sick, perverse cycle, and one I've cautioned friends to get out of a million times over since then. But, it's a hell of a lot easier to dish out advice than it is to take it.

I knew though, that once he opened that door and thought it was okay to put his hands on me, that it was never going to get better. There really is no coming back from that. He said he was sorry a million times, a million different ways, but I finally woke up. I finally realized I needed to get the hell out of there before he ended up killing me.

So, I filed a restraining order against him and continued on with my life. I finished my program, and with my dad's encouragement, moved to South Cali. I honestly haven't given Mark much thought since.

Watching him walk into the bar though – and seeing that smug, greasy smirk appear on his face at the sight of me – immediately brought all my old fears rushing back to the surface again.

Using an app, I called for a cab. Morro Bay isn't a very big town, and there are only a few options for car service this late at night. Meaning, it's going to be a little bit of a wait.

Shit.

My stomach twists and churns as I stand outside the bar, hiding in a pool of darkness I'm hoping is enough to conceal me. I just want to go totally unnoticed, get into the cab, and get back to my dad's house where I'm staying for the weekend. Before heading back home, I'm going to spend the next couple of days cleaning it out and packing things up.

We'll probably have to deal with selling dad's house eventually, but I can do that from Long Beach. I don't think I really need to physically be here for it. Between Brice and Mark, I just want to get the hell out of town as soon as possible.

“There you are. I was wondering where you slipped off to.”

The moment I hear his voice, an icy fist of fear reaches into my chest and squeezes my heart. I turn and see Mark standing beneath a light about five feet from me. I was so consumed by my thoughts, I didn't even hear him walk up.

“You need to stay away from me, Mark,” I warn.

He scoffs. “That restraining order expired,” he sneers. “You never renewed it. Remember?”

Shit. I hadn't even thought about it after I left town.

“Not that a restraining order actually does a lot of good anyway,” he says, stepping closer to me. “Does it?”

I back up and swallow hard when I bump into the wall behind me. Mark stands before me, his tall frame towering over me. He puts a hand on either side of me, pinning me to the wall, and my heart starts to pound wildly in my chest. He's so close, I can smell the beer on his breath, and the cheap cologne he wears that I've always hated.

“Get away from me, asshole,” I say, grimacing at the tremor I hear in my own voice.

“And if I don't?”

I don't have an answer to the question. Really, there isn't much I can do. He's not a large man, not like Brice or my brother, but he's still bigger than I am. And although I don't think of myself as some weak damsel, I know he can still overpower me. If he wanted to do something terrible to me right now, he could. Easily.

“Relax,” he says. “I'm not going to hurt you. I just – I miss you, Emma.”

“You need to get over that,” I say. “We’re done.”

“See, it hurts me that you say things like that,” he replies. “I only ever wanted to be good to you. Only wanted to love you and give you everything you wanted.”

“Yeah, you had a funny way of showing it,” I say. “I remember you hitting me –”

“I slapped you once. Once,” he says. “And I apologized for it.”

“It doesn't matter,” I hiss. “It happened. You put your hands on me in anger, and I'm never going to forget it.”

Mark looks deep into my eyes with something that kind of resembles affection. He reaches out and traces his fingertip along my jawline, a faint smile upon his lips. I recoil from his touch, my eyes darting around wildly as I look for help and a way to escape.

“We were really good together, Em,” he says. “We could be again – if you'd just give me a chance.”

“Never gonna happen,” I say and start to push my way past him.

I let out a squeak when he grabs hold of me, his hands clamping down on my shoulders like vices. He pushes me back, slamming me into the wall of the bar. The adrenaline starts to flow inside of me as my heart beats a staccato rhythm in my chest.

Mark's eyes burn into mine, the look of affection now replaced by something darker. Angrier.

“Let go of me, Mark,” I say. “I have to go.”

“You're not going anywhere,” he hisses. “Not until we've had a chance to talk.”

“There's nothing to talk about,” I say. “I don't even live here anymore.”

“You can change that,” he says. “And you will change that. You belong to me, Emma.”

Tears roll down my cheeks, and my heart is beating so hard, I'm half-afraid it's about to explode inside of me. I struggle to break free of his grasp, but he holds me tight. I drive my knee upward, trying to connect with his balls, hoping it will break his grasp but he deftly blocks it with his own leg.

“Tomorrow morning, we're going down to where you're living right now, and pack up all your things,” he whispers. “After that, you and I are moving into your daddy's house. We're going to be together, just you and me. Like it was always meant to be.”

The sound of Mark grunting and his hands being ripped away from me makes me open my eyes. When I see Brice pulling Mark away from me, I want to cheer. The two struggle for dominance for a minute before the sound of Mark's fist catching Brice in the face echoes out across the parking lot, like a baseball hitting an old mitt. It's a solid thud and a sharp crack, all at the same time.

Brice's head snaps to the side and he stumbles but remains standing. I see a cut open up beneath his eye and a stream of blood begin to flow down his cheek.

He touches a fingertip to the cut before pulling it away and looking at the blood. And then Brice smiles. It's a cold, emotionless smile that sends a tendril of ice straight up my spine. That grin is dark, mysterious, and unsettling.

“You really fucked up now.”

Brice’s movements are a blur as he steps toward Mark, taking him in a tight chokehold. Even Mark looks taken aback by how quickly and gracefully a man as big as Brice can move. Mark's face is red, his eyes bulging out of his head as he struggles in Brice's grasp. Brice is so much larger and stronger that he doesn't stand a chance.

“I think you better apologize,” Brice growls.

“Fuck you,” Mark sputters, grunting as he struggles to break free.

Brice looks at me and shrugs. “Your move, Em,” he says.

I honestly don't know what I’m thinking as I close the distance between Mark and me. Maybe, it's all the years of fear he forced me to live in. Maybe, it's that he made me betray my true self to appease him. Maybe, it's that he took me away from all my friends. Maybe, it's just the overwhelming mix of emotions stirred up inside of me because of him, because of Brice, and Dad’s death. If I’m being honest, it’s probably a combination of all those things and more.

Whatever the reason, I find my body in motion before I have a chance to really stop and think about what I'm doing. Stepping up to Mark, I drive my foot upward as hard as I can. My shoe connects with his balls, and I hear the air exit his lungs in a whoosh. His body suddenly goes limp in Brice's arms, and his face goes from red to a shade of purple.

Laughing, Brice lets him go, and Mark crumples to the ground in a heap. He curls up in the fetal position, making mewling sounds, as he gasps for breath.

“Well, I didn't expect that,” Brice says. “Though, I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. You never took shit from anybody.”

I step back and put my hands on my head, my eyes wide, as I look down at Mark's whimpering, pathetic form. I look up at Brice, unable to speak. Unable to move. Unable to do anything but stand there like a complete idiot.

Brice crosses over to me and pulls me into a tight embrace. All at once, I feel a rush of emotion as the adrenaline leaves my body. I start to shake, and the tears spill down my face. Brice just holds me, stroking my hair, and lets me cry. I bury my face in his chest, clutching to the lapels of his jacket, my body heaving with sobs.

“You're okay,” he says softly. “Everything's okay.”

I don't even know how long we're standing like that – it was a few minutes, at least – when I become aware of the fact I’m hugging Brice goddamn Kelly. Suddenly feeling embarrassed, I let go and back up, wiping the tears from my face.

“Go tell his buddies to get their asses out here and help him,” Brice says. “I have a car coming for us. It'll be here any minute.”

I stand there for a moment, looking at the sniveling mess that was once my boyfriend. I'm rooted to my spot, stunned with disbelief about everything that just happened. I never intended for any of this to happen.

“Emma,” Brice's commanding voice cuts through the haze in my head. “Go get his friends. Now.”

I nod my head and turn away, running back into the bar to find the guys Mark came in there with. I find them, tell them what happened, and hustle back out to Brice, who has Mark sitting up. His head is down between his knees, and his breathing is ragged.

Mark looks up at me when I approach them and opens his mouth to say something, but then closes it again, looking down instead. Brice nudges him in the small of the back with his foot as if to encourage him. Mark finally looks up at me, and when he speaks, his voice is thick and slurred.

“I – I'm sorry Emma,” he says. “I – I won't bother you again.”

“Good man,” Brice says, a satisfied, devilish smirk on his face.

Mark's friends arrive and help him to his feet, casting dark glares at Brice the whole time. Brice stares them down, never taking his eyes off them until they get Mark out to a car, and into the backseat.

A moment later, headlights cut through the parking lot as a dark Town Car pulls in. Brice puts a hand gently on my forearm and guides me over to it.

“I'll drop you off at your dad's place.”

I give my head a small shake. “I have a cab on the way. Thanks, though.”

At least, I think I do. It's been a while, and I haven’t checked the app in over thirty minutes.

“Cancel it,” Brice says. “And get into the car.”

Still shaking, and almost numb with disbelief, I do as he says. I move toward the car, the driver holding the door open for me, and climb into the backseat. Brice stops and says a few words to the driver, then joins me in the backseat.

A moment later, the door is closed, and we're on our way.