Page 92 of Protected from Torment

Before I think the words through, I hear myself saying, “Maybe being closer to your parents would be nice. You’d get to see them more often.”

No! howls the hopeful voice. No!

Melissa stares at me. Then she lifts her chin and slides off the stool. “Oscar.”

Oscar lifts his head to look at her.

“Let’s go for a walk,” she tells him.

“You’re going for a walk now?” I ask. Flicking a glance at the now-full carafe, I add, “What about coffee?”

She heads into the living room and takes his leash from the hook by the door. “I’m not really in the mood.” A beat, and then, “I’ll have some when I get back.”

I don’t want to let her leave. Not with things like this. Not with so many conflicted feelings inside me, so tangled I can’t make sense of them. “Breakfast?”

“I’ll have a protein bar,” Melissa replies. She clips Oscar’s leash to his collar, then turns back to look at me. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

It feels like a tremendous weight is pressing down on my chest. Part of me desperately wants to beg her to stay.

But.

As I look at Mel, I’m reminded of her terrified face again. How damn scared she was in the car, not understanding what was happening or if we’d get out of it alive. I’m reminded of her sobbing in my arms, apologizing for doing exactly what I asked. I’m reminded of her trembling hand when I took the gun from it—a gun she never wanted to hold again.

None of that would have happened if not for me.

So I don’t ask her to stay. I just nod at her and say, “Make sure you have your phone. Just in case.”

She gives me another sad smile. “I have it.”

Then she turns and walks out the door.

And I’m left behind, staring after her, wondering how it all went so wrong.

CHAPTER 18

MELISSA

“Are you sure everything’s okay?”

Eden looks at me with a concerned expression as she adds, “I know we haven’t known each other that long, but if you ever want to talk, I’m happy to listen.”

“I’m fine,” I reply automatically while forcing a smile I hope looks genuine. “Just a little tired, I think.” Searching for a distraction, I grab one of the cookies from the plate Eden set on the coffee table and take a small bite. “This is really good, by the way. Did you make it yourself?”

Lie. It tastes like sawdust, and my stomach threatens to revolt as I force myself to swallow it. But Rafe likes to tease Eden about not being a good cook—“Terrible,” Eden cheerfully adds whenever he does it—so I shouldn’t be surprised.

Eden glances at the snickerdoodle cookie I’m holding and laughs. “Oh, no. You wouldn’t want them if I made them. Rafe picked them up at the bakery in Williston yesterday. I’ve been trying to watch my diet after having Amanda, but”—she shrugs—“I think a little splurge once in a while is okay.”

So I guess it’s not Eden’s baking skills that are turning my stomach. Now that I’m thinking about it, it’s more likely due to the conversation Tyler and I had back at the cabin—one that didn’t go even close to as well as I’d hoped.

Maybe I should have just come out and asked what he wanted. No beating around the bush, as my dad likes to say, but just said it. Do you want me to stay on the West Coast? Near Portland, more specifically? Or have you changed your mind about me?

I thought about it. While I was waiting for Tyler to come back from his run, I toyed with the idea of asking straight out. But when it came down to it, I was too much of a coward to ask. I was too afraid his answers would all be no.

But that’s what he basically said, though he didn’t put it in so many words.

Yes, you should find a job. South Carolina might not be a bad idea. I’ll even help, so I can get you out of here faster.

Okay, the last part might be a stretch. But the other parts? Not as much.