“Don’t be a bitch, Beck,” he growls. “You know I use the truck to get back and forth to work. I stayed in this shitty town because of you. It’s the least you can do.”
I met Braden a few years after I moved to Emerley. He was charming and a flirt. I enjoyed the positive attention, and we had fun whenever we hung out. Falling into a serious relationship with him felt natural—the next step. However, when we moved in together, all the charm and fun disappeared. His mood was unpredictable. One minute he was loving and affectionate. He would shower me with praise. Next, he was angry, and I couldn’t do anything right. So once again I found myself walking on eggshells in my own home. He never laid a hand on me, but he regularly cleared the kitchen table with his arm and slammed doors if he felt he wasn’t getting his own way. Why did I ever believe I could have a real future with him?
He blames me for all his problems. Though he grew up here, I was the one who wanted to stay. He promised things would be better if we moved somewhere new. I wasn’t willing to leave my friends, who are like family, Aunt Maggie, and the tattoo studio for him.
I loved the idea of travelling and hosting a pop-up shop a couple of times a year as long as Emerley remained our home base—somewhere permanent I could return to. I thought it might be a suitable compromise but look how that turned out.
I hoped that when I ended our relationship, he would eventually leave without me. Surely the woman he was talking to online would take him in—gross. But I couldn’t be so lucky. I’m his human ATM. Why would he give that up?
“You don’t need me to leave. Go if you aren’t happy living in Emerley. Nobody is forcing you to stay.”
“What, you think you’re better than me now? I don’t think so.” He’s beginning to raise his voice. Not enough to cause a scene, but enough for people to notice. “Look at you whoring yourself out and doing the walk of shame on a Sunday morning. You didn’t even bother to fix your face and hair,” he huffs, shaking his head.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Ryan snaps, stepping around to shield me from my ex. “Beck has told you she’s not giving you anymore money, and she’s not coming back. You need to listen to her and go. Now.”
“So, what, are you taking her on as a project, Doc?” He snorts, acknowledging Ryan for the first time. “You’re some kind of shrink, right? Good luck with that. She needs all the help she can get; she’s fucked up in the head.” He taps a finger to his temple.
“Walk away,” Ryan warns, his voice becoming deeper. I can feel him vibrating with anger. Braden needs to fuck off if he knows what’s good for him.
“Do I need to be worried about this?”
I sigh with relief when I see Mason Kent, a local police officer, approach us. He’s in plain clothes, so I know he’s not on duty. I hate to think that this public display is interfering with his regular Sunday brunch with Grace. But nothing would stop him from intervening if he thought it was necessary.
Braden raises his palms to the air and backs away. “No problem here, officer,” he says with a creepy, wide smile. “I was just reminding Becky that she owes me money.” Turning to me, he says, “I’ll be seeing you soon, sweetheart. And Beck, you should call your parents. They are concerned about your recent behaviour.” Chuckling to himself, he walks away.
I grab Ryan’s arm before he can say anything or follow him. I’m already embarrassed by what I shared so publicly, not to mention what Braden said about me.
“Are you okay?” He examines me from head to toe.
“Oh, yeah.” I try to laugh it off and minimize my big feelings. “This is just another Sunday for me. Called out for being a whore and extorted for money. Can we go? I want to go home, okay?”
Mason rubs the back of his neck and steps closer. “Do we need to discuss this further? If he’s harassing you, I can bring him in. We can see about getting a restraining order.”
“Nah,” I dismiss him. “I’m kidding. It’s no big deal. We have a lot of history, and we are still sorting out assets and stuff.” Looking away, I take a step towards the truck.
“I’ll let it go for now. Let’s plan to chat soon and put some things on record. What do you say?”
“Sure, we can do that.” Not wanting to continue this discussion further, I climb into the truck and shut the door.
Biting my thumbnail, I watch through the windshield as Ryan talks to Mason. His face is blank as he listens to whatever Ryan is saying as he paces back and forth in front of him with his fists clenched at his sides. He must be satisfied with whatever Mason tells him because he nods his head and shakes the older man’s hand. When he gets in the truck and shuts the door, he turns towards me.
“Are you alright? Honest talk, Beck. Don’t hide behind humour because none of what just happened is okay.”
Breaking eye contact first, I stare down at my hands. “I’m fine, but I really want to go home. I don’t want to see all the people inside the bakery and have them judge me for my poor life choices. Maybe tomorrow.” I try to laugh but fail. “You go grab yourself a coffee though. I can wait here.”
“I don’t need coffee that badly. We can talk about this,” he implores, taking my hand in his own. “Has Braden really been talking to your parents?”
Ignoring his question, I say, “You may not want coffee, but I do. Go on and help a girl out, would ya?”
He doesn’t move or say anything, just holds my hand and searches my eyes for answers I don’t want to give him.
“Please, Ryan,” I whisper. “Grab our coffees so we can leave.”
“Okay,” he agrees, raising my hand to his mouth, giving the back a gentle kiss. “Be right back. Lock the doors.”
Watching him walk away and turn the corner, I catch a sob as the tears stream down my face.I’m fucked up in the head. I can’t do anything right. I’ll never be good enough.
Sniffing, I wipe my eyes with the sleeve of Ryan’s hoodie and try to stop my spiral.
