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Tatum's in a ball on the floor.
“Jesus.” I lower to my knees and brush the hair away from her face. “Are you okay?”
“Is he gone?”
“Yes. Total douche by the way.”
“I hate that my body reacts this way to him, but—”
“You don't owe me an explanation, Tatum. Unless you want to talk about it, of course, then I'll listen. But he's your husband?” I keep my tone calm and steady.
“Soon-to-be ex-husband. If he ever signs the paperwork my attorney sent him. He has a God complex, and on top of being abusive, controlling, and manipulative, he doesn't like to lose. It's why I had to leave as soon as I filed for a divorce. I knew he wouldn't accept it. I could tell by his tone that he knew you were lying. I can’t stay here any longer because he’ll come back,” she says with certainty.
“Why didn't you file a restraining order? You deserve protection, regardless of his job title. Didn’t you tell someone?” I ask softly.
“That wouldn't stop him from keeping his distance. And no. I knew no one would believe me by how he flashed our marriage on social media and made me act around his friends and business partners. The bruises were always in places people couldn't see unless I was in a—”
Memories of her in that damn bikini appear again. As I scanned my eyes down her perfect body, I remember seeing a mark on her inner thigh that looked questionable. It was almost healed, but I didn’t think anything of it until now.
“So you ran,” I confirm, realizing that was her only option. I should find him and go put a few marks on him.
“I saved up some cash from secret side jobs and got a prepaid phone. I had no choice but to use my car since renting would leave a paper trail, but once I decided to stay here, I sold it. I knew he'd put an APB out on me, so I had to get rid of it.”
It's why she changed her name for payroll.
I ball my hands into fists, feeling anger boil inside me. It’s something that I haven't felt in a long-ass time. When Tatum randomly showed up needing a job and place to rent, I knew there was a problem. I figured she'd explain when she was ready.
“Can you drive me to the Amtrak station? Maybe I can get a ticket tonight for someplace else. While he's looking for me here, I’ll escape.”
“If he's already searching the area, he has alerts set for you for all forms of transportation out of town. I don't think running is the answer, Tatum,” I tell her genuinely. “You can hide in your apartment as long as you need. He'll eventually leave when he’s bored.”
Tears well in her eyes, and I hate that fuckface for what he's put her through. Against my better judgment, I lean in and wipe her cheek.
“Let's talk more about it over dinner tonight. That way, you’re not alone, and we can develop a solid plan. You don't have to do this alone. We can go to the authorities together.”
She swallows hard, blinking up at me. I can tell she's nervous, but I'll do whatever it takes to reassure her that I'll keep her safe.
“Okay,” she squeaks out. “I'm sorry for lying. I didn't want you to get involved or be put in the middle of my terrible situation.”
I shake my head, angered by how her husband, a man who vowed to love her, has traumatized her. Pieces of shit like him deserve to go to jail, no matter who they are.
“Don't apologize. Put me in the dead center of it. I want to help you through this, Tatum. It’s the least I can do.”
She flashes a faint smile, then I help her to her feet. Our eyes meet for a moment, then I walk her to the back door. I make sure no one is watching, then lead her upstairs.
“Lock your door. I'll come over at five.”
Chapter Two
TATUM
Once I enter my apartment and deadbolt the door, my body finally relaxes. I feel like I can breathe once again.
The moment I saw Justin, my heart dropped into my stomach, and I nearly vomited. I made a plan to leave him a couple of months ago, and though I've feared him finding me, I never anticipated how I'd react when I saw him again.
Thankfully, Easton was working with me. He's a godsend, even if I don't deserve his kindness. He's already done so much for me, starting with the day I came in and applied for a job—one he hired me for immediately, but I’d also needed a place to stay.
After driving from Nebraska to Florida, staying in cheap motels, and only eating once a day, I didn't have much money leftover. Thankfully, he made a deal with me to take the rent out of my wages, and I’d work any shift he needed.
