Page 80 of Protected from Torment

“What?” Surprise makes me jerk the wheel, and the car veers onto the shoulder before I steer it back. “Why?”

When I glance at Mel, she’s giving me a curious look. “Because I need money?”

“What about the severance pay?” I ask. “Shouldn’t that hold you over for a few more months, at least?” Or at least, it should, according to the calculations I made before suggesting how much money her employer should offer her. And if I implied they’d be sued for millions if they didn’t? I don’t feel the slightest bit guilty about it.

“It could,” she replies. “But if I want to have enough for a security deposit, I really need to start putting more away.”

“A security deposit?” I’m vaguely aware of my voice rising. “Why would you want a security deposit?”

“For an apartment. I’m going to need one, eventually.” As I glance in her direction again, I notice her smile has faded. “I love being here, but I know I can’t stay forever. So I’ve been thinking I should start making plans. Getting ready⁠—”

“I never said you have to leave,” I interrupt. “Did I say something that implied⁠—”

She shakes her head. “You didn’t. But I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable situation where you want me to leave, but feel bad about asking.”

“What?” I’m trying to keep my eyes on the sharp curves of the mountain road, but I keep stealing quick glances in Melissa’s direction. “Who said anything about me wanting you to leave?”

Small lines form across her forehead. “You didn’t. But I would hate to overstay my welcome...”

Suddenly, the future I’ve been dreaming about with Melissa in it—road trips together and lazy weekends watching The Office and introducing her to my friends and family—takes an unwelcome detour. The new road is an empty one, devoid of the happiness I’ve begun to get used to again.

And shit, I don’t want to be there.

“Shit,” I mutter before I can stop myself. “This is my fault.”

“What’s your fault?” Melissa asks.

But I don’t answer her. I’m too wrapped up in my burgeoning panic. All I can think about is my life without Mel in it.

I don’t want to go back to an empty cabin and an empty bed and shit, an empty life⁠—

I should have told her already.

Dammit, if I’d told Mel how I really felt, maybe she wouldn’t be talking about leaving.

“Tyler?” Her hand squeezes mine. “Are you okay? Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” I reply. My chest feels like it’s caving in. “You didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just⁠—”

Just what? I’ve been too much of a damn coward to tell her the truth? That I can’t bear the thought of being without her?

Or… I can fix this.

It’s not too late. Glimpsing a possible solution, I grab hold of it. Just because she brought up moving doesn’t mean it’s happening. If I tell Mel how I feel, if I ask her to stay… maybe she will.

As I work to gather my thoughts, I ask, “Do you want to move? Or are you just saying that because you think I’ll want you to?”

Melissa hesitates.

My stomach drops to my feet.

She wants to leave. And maybe I can’t⁠—

“It’s not that I want to leave,” she starts. “But⁠—”

From behind us, a pickup truck approaches with a heavy roar of its engine. Its silver grill looms large in the rearview mirror, getting closer by the second.

Though it could be nothing other than an impatient driver, I’ve heard too many stories and seen too many things not to be immediately on alert.