Page 14 of Hunt You Down

Instead of answering, I unrolled my napkin. “After I eat.”

André didn’t protest, and I brought my fork to my mouth. The first bite of steak hit my taste buds, and I nearly moaned. It was the first real food I’d eaten in weeks. I knew I’d lose my appetite the minute I started talking about Regan, so I savored every bite.

I stretched out the meal, dreading the conversation to come. With my last bite, I pushed my empty plate away from me and took in my surroundings. I wouldn’t have said the place was packed, but there were still too many people for my liking—too many listening ears.

“Would you mind if we went somewhere else to talk?” I asked. “It’s a little noisy in here.”

“Of course,” André said, standing from the table with the excuse of using the bathroom.

I waited for the server to come by, but she never did. Instead, André returned—with another drink in each hand. He offered one to me.

“Something tells me you’re going to need it.” André grabbed my jacket and before I could get a word out said, “I’ve already paid and I refuse to look at the dirty look you’re giving me right now.”

He pulled my jacket over my shoulders and gently kissed my cheek. I stood to the side while he rebuttoned his suit jacket and tossed his coat over his arm. By the time he turned my way, I was damn near salivating again.

Fuck me—what am I getting myself into?

I led André out of the restaurant and down the block toward the river. It wasn’t too special, but I enjoyed it. All the touristy stuff got old when you lived there, but I’d always enjoyed the river. It was a safe space when things got hard.

“Have you always lived here?” André asked, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I shook my head. “I’m from a small town down south.” I led André through an alley and down a flight of cobblestone stairs. We emerged between two buildings, and the lights on River Street lit up our view. I took a deep breath, immediately relaxing.

“This way,” I said, tugging André down the street, across the cobblestone, and to a perfect spot with an overview of the river. We leaned over the railing, and I let the lights twinkling over the river hypnotize me. André stepped close, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I melted into him, suddenly feeling a sense of security so strong that it was almost overwhelming. My head fell onto his shoulder, and his stubbly cheek brushed mine.

“I don’t know the details. Dylan just called this morning and told me that you could probably use someone. I dropped everything and got on the first flight out here.” He pressed gentle lips to my cheek before he continued. “You don’t have to tell me every dirty detail, but I would like to know if you’re okay.”

I inhaled so deeply that my lungs ached. I couldn’t put it off anymore. I had to start talking, even if it was just for myself. I’d spent so much time living it, but none of it felt real. Maybe it would help to get it out to someone other than a legal team.

“I’ll talk. But I need you to let me do that. No interruptions, no advice, no pity.”

“You got it baby.”

Chapter Eight

I relaxed in André’s arms. “Six years ago, I got mixed up with a guy who wasn’t particularly good for me. I’m from a very traditional southern town. I’d known Regan since we were in diapers. We weren’t close by any means, but we were the same age, so we were always around each other.

“I came out to my parents my junior year, and by some miracle, they accepted me for who I was. My mom went out and bought a rainbow magnet for the fridge because I wouldn’t let her display one outside. As it turns out, Regan was gay too. We bonded over being the only two queer kids in such a small town. Slowly, those vent sessions turned into dates, which turned into more. I always thought we were careful.

“The first time he hit me was the one and only time we got caught. We’d met up at the edge of a farm, thinking the place was abandoned. Only, the new owner saw Regan’s car headlights from his house and came out to investigate: It was the pastor. We were too busy in the backseat of Regan’s car to see him coming. Regan punched me, breaking my nose for the first time. He said that I came onto him, pushed me out of his car, and left me there. The pastor called my parents and they told me never to see him again. I should’ve listened.”

My eyes stung, and I paused to blink away tears. I wasn’t going to cry—I was determined.

“Like a fool, I forgave him. In some twisted way, it made sense: he was protecting himself. But we couldn’t meet up anymore—not in our town. So, when we turned eighteen, we moved away. I didn’t want to leave the state, and it was either we move north to Atlanta, or we come out to Savannah. I always loved it here, and thought it would be much safer.

“Things only got worse from there. Over the years, he’s broken my nose more than once. One Christmas, I had to have my jaw wired shut for six weeks—I didn’t go home that year. I’ve had three surgeries on my left arm and have next to no feeling in those fingers. The last time he nearly killed me. I ended up on a ventilator for a while. The hospital caught on to what was happening and refused him entry. They managed to track down my parents, but my dad was sick and my mom hesitated to leave him. So, Dylan jumped into his car at three in the morning and drove four hours to where I was.

“That’s when the threats started. Of course, I didn’t get to my phone until I came off the ventilator. It wasn’t just me, though. He went after Dylan too. When I woke up, the police were waiting for me. The hospital had called them. It was Dylan who talked me into the TPO, but Regan immediately violated it. He spent thirty days in lockup, but that was practically nothing to him. He still called, and texted. Dylan helped me move. Regan found out where we went and started lingering around our front door. He’d try to stare into the windows—we never kept the shades open. I couldn’t handle it.”

That security footage haunted my dreams. Throat tight, I forced myself to get it together. I was almost through the story, and I couldn’t stop now. My head was swimming. Whether it was from the drink or stress, I wasn’t sure. I took a deep, shaky breath, and André tightened his arms around me. “I’ve got you,” he whispered in my ear. “You’re safe.”

I rushed through the rest of the story. “He ended up following me to work. They threatened to fire me if he didn’t stop, so Dylan convinced me to explore my options. With all the combined evidence, they were able to press aggravated stalking and assault charges. That, combined with the broken protection orders, earned him five years. He has to turn himself in tomorrow.”

André remained silent. I could imagine it was a lot for him to take in. Hell, I lived it and still couldn’t believe it.

“So… that’s what I’ve been up to since I got home: Putting my ex-boyfriend behind bars for nearly killing me.”