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“It’s my ex-boyfriend. Declan.”
Even with the ex part coming before it, the notion of Autumn having a boyfriend causes my fists to clench.
“Go on,” I say, in the calmest voice I can muster.
“I met him soon after my parents… well, anyway. And he was so nice at first. He was a few years older than me. He seemed like exactly what I needed.”
I wonder how much older he is, trying to mask any sign of relief on my face. If she’s open to the idea of being with an older man, maybe that obstacle won’t stop us from being together.
But then again, maybe this bastard soured her to the idea. Maybe he ruined all older men in her eyes.
“He swept me off my feet. I hate to think of it like that, after everything that happened, but it’s the truth… are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Yes,” I say, even if it’s an effort not to flip the table.
This prick clearly had a profound effect on her, reducing her to such violent sobs in the alleyway. I remember the way she felt against me as her body trembled, as I stroked my hands through her hair, like all the sadness she’d ever experienced was bursting out of her.
“He said all the right things. I thought he was my shoulder to cry on, my friend. I thought he really liked me. That is why, after a month of dating, I agreed to move in with him. I know that seems fast. But it was so… ah, I don’t know.”
She sighs, bowing her head. I almost reach across the table and supportively squeeze her shoulder, but I know it wouldn’t end there. I know I wouldn’t be able to stop.
I wouldn’t try and do anything intimate with her here – that’s for my eyes only – but I’m not sure I’d be able to contain all these urges, the alarm signal blaring through my mind telling me to hold her, protect her, hurt anyone who dares to make her feel this way.
“He duped me, I guess. Again, I hate thinking of it like that, but there it is. And then, once he’d moved me out of the apartment I was staying in he showed his true colors.”
She pauses, clasping both hands around her coffee mug, blowing softly on the steam.
“You don’t have to go on,” I murmur. “I don’t want to upset you.”
“It feels weirdly good to talk about it,” she replies. “But I know you didn’t sign up for this.”
“I want to hear it,” I almost growl, the fierceness inside of me difficult to contain.
“He started getting controlling, acting strange. He found out the passcode to my phone and started to read my texts. He would belittle me constantly, criticizing me about my looks, about my dreams of being a historian, even about my parents. When I told you that someone laughed when I told them about how they died, it was him. It was Declan. He laughed right in my face and said, he said…”
I can’t stop myself anymore. Unclenching my fist, I reach across the table and touch her arm as tenderly as I can.
She flinches, and I wonder if I’ve made a mistake.
But then she leans into the touch, as though silently showing me she’s grateful for the support.
“He said anyone stupid enough to go on a hot air balloon ride deserved to die.”
“That evil motherfucker,” I snarl. “That lowlife scum.”
“He never laid a hand on me,” she says, as though that makes it all better. “He was very particular about that. I had my own room. At first, I thought he was just being kind. He’s smart, Asher. He knows how to take it right up to the line and then back away at the last second, playing Mr. Innocent.”
“What happened next?” I ask.
“I stayed with him for five months. Five long, horrible months, and then finally I told my friend Paula what was happening. Declan always turned on the charm around her, around everybody who wasn’t me… but once she discovered the truth, she helped me to work up the courage to leave him.”
“That must’ve been difficult,” I say.
“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
She raises her coffee to her lips. I remove my hand from her shoulder and sit back, my palm burning with her warmth.
If that simple contact has my whole body alight like a Fourth of July fireworks display, just a single touch… What would closer intimacy do to me?
My manhood twinges at the thought.
“When was this?” I ask.
“Over a year ago now,” she replies. “He left me alone for a little while, but lately he’s been calling me nonstop, not seeming to care that I’ve ignored all his calls. He even showed up at my place once. That’s why I was crying before. I answered my phone without checking who it was first, and he rubbed my face in it, reminding me he could visit my apartment anytime.”
