I don’t listen.
One moment my hand is on the stairwell door, the next I’m slammed to the ground. My chin hits the wooden floorboards and pain shoots up my jaw. I scream and trash against the weight pinning me down.
It’s Finn. He’s on top of me. His forearm braced between my shoulders, knees boxing my hips.
“Get the fuck off me,” I hiss, trying to twist my way out of his grip. I’m about to throw him off but a second weight slams me back onto the floor.
“YOSH, CALM THE FUCK DOWN!” Tom yells.
“GET OFF ME!” I scream, thrashing harder. I can handle a goddamn twink and a half-otter pinning me down. I’m stronger than both of them, and they know it.
“Jesus. Never topped like this before,” Finn grunts through gritted teeth.
Between my rants, I hear neighbors’ doors opening. Cameras flash in my face.
I’m past shame, and this is, as we speak, a very shameful situation I’ve landed in. One of many in my life, and counting.
I’m seconds from breaking free when a third weight lands on me. It’s Joan.
“Well, this is fun! Why are we doing this?”
“He…he’s about to kill…your father,” Tom pants.
I let out a frustrated scream. The weight of the three of them is too much.
I keep reaching for the door until my body gives out. The anger goes with it.
Moments later, I’m back in Tom’s apartment, sitting on the Chesterfield with a pack of frozen peas pressed to my face.
My jaw hurts, and I know by tomorrow there will be a nasty purple bump on my face. The scratch on my chin burns too. Damned floorboards.
Joan stands by the door and throws Tom a look that asks for reassurance. “We’re leaving now, okay?”
“We’ll be fine, Joan. Thanks.”
She and Finn walk out, the door closing behind them. The silence is thickening by the second.
I drop the ice pack onto the coffee table harder than necessary.
“I need to go. Got a plane to catch.”
“Love, please,” he says, his voice a plea. “It’s just for three months. She’s my daughter, Yosh. You have to understand.”
I inhale sharply and look away. My jaw locks. This is so fucked up.
“Once again, Jay used your guilt and your struggles with Effy to his advantage.”
The irony? It was the first thing we’d talked about at our first sit-down, and now it’s our last. I remember us on the panoramicterrace, the panic in his eyes when I suggested he try living without Jay calling the shots.
I’ve watched him grow more confident, watched him become his own person. And yet…maybe nothing has changed. Tom has chosen the cage.
I’m mad. Mad at myself, not him, for allowing this. I deserve better than this. He probably deserves better than me too.
Tom runs a hand through his hair for what feels like the hundredth time.
“I’m not blind. I see that too. But that doesn’t mean Jay’s wrong.” He lifts my chin; I jerk away.
“Please, love. I’m not doing this because Jay said so. I need to be there for Effy and make her my first priority. Maybe someday you’ll understand how that feels.”
