Page 8 of Flashback for the Forward

No such luck.

Unwilling to let him see how much he terrified me, I hid them in the folds of the fabric knotted at my waist as I turned around.

I put on an air of innocence. “What are you talking about?”

My live-in boyfriend sneered, his lip curling menacingly. “Don’t play dumb with me. I called the house all afternoon, and you didn’t answer once. So, I’ll ask again. Where. The hell. Were. You?”

And here I was thinking if I left my cell phone at home—knowing he likely had a tracker on it—that he would be none the wiser that I was sneaking out during the day.

Stupid Bridget.

Pulling in a deep breath that did nothing to settle my racing heart, I replied, “The library.”

Aiden’s dark brows pulled down. “The library?”

I toed the ground. “Mm-hmm.”

His tone softened. “If you wanted books to read, all you had to do was ask.”

Lying would only get me into more trouble—if I knew Aiden, he would be checking my alibi first thing in the morning—so I told the truth. “I’m the assistant librarian.”

Storm clouds gathered in his brown eyes. “Do you not trust me to provide for you?”

I was barely able to bite back the sarcastic laughter that threatened to roll up my throat. When he’d convinced me to quit my job a couple of years ago, I’d thought it was sweet, albeit a little sexist, that he believed it was the man’s responsibility to earn a living to support his family. Now, I saw it for what it truly was—a manipulation technique used to strip me of my independence. I couldn’t leave him because I didn’t have any money of my own.

Not wanting to dig the hole deeper, I explained, “Of course I do. I work there as a volunteer.”

“A volunteer,” he repeated slowly.

“It’s just that I get lonely sometimes when you’re on duty. It gives me something to do, people to talk to.”

Aiden’s jaw twitched, and instantly, I realized my mistake. He’d gone out of his way to isolate me from others, so learning that I was actively seeking out companionship would only cause him to shorten my leash, despite it already being pulled so tight that I could barely move without it threatening to choke me.

Smooth as silk, my boyfriend cajoled, “Do you have any idea how fortunate you are? To have a beautiful home to live in and a man who earns enough that you don’t have to work?”

I dropped my head, resigned to my fate of living under his thumb for so long as I lived. “I’m sorry if I acted ungrateful.”

The sound of boots crossing the linoleum reached my ears before fingers gripped my chin, forcing me to meet his gaze.

Though there was an expression of affection on his face, it was nothing more than a mask, hiding the cruel man he was underneath.

“You are forgiven.”

How benevolent. Insert eye roll.

His lips brushed against mine in a quick kiss where I was forced to suppress my revulsion. When he withdrew, his eyes darted around the kitchen, a wrinkle forming between his brows. “No dinner?”

Right, because he viewed me as nothing more than his unpaid domestic servant.

Pulling out of his grasp, I moved toward the oven where the food I’d made hours ago was being kept warm for him. Go figure, the guy who spent all afternoon calling the house couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone and let me know he wouldn’t be home for hours after his shift ended.

I withdrew the plate, setting it on the table. “I made your favorite. Meatloaf with mashed potatoes and green beans.”

Aiden eyed the meal, his lips pursed in displeasure. “Bridget, you know I don’t eat leftovers.”

Yeah, I did, but this food didn’t qualify as such.

“I only made it a few hours ago,” I explained, foolishly hoping he would see reason and sit down to eat.