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“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, her voice jagged, broken. “He told me I was crazy and he was right.”
Jason’s arms tightened around her. “No, baby girl, he was not right. He was wrong. Utterly and completely wrong.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
“He wasn’t always an abusive asshole.” For some reason, Catherine felt compelled to defend him. And it was the truth—they had been happy, at first. Before the miscarriages. Before things began to fall apart. “We had miscarriages,” she said. “That’s when it started to get bad.”
“And you stayed for far too long.” It was a simple statement, but it made Catherine’s hackles rise. Even if that was true, she didn’t need it pointed out to her. She already knew. Her whole body stiffened in defence and she pulled back out of his hold. It hadn’t been easy to leave. In fact, it had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. To walk away from everything she had—the life she’d built with the man she thought she would love forever, and who had promised to love her forever in return. Their house. Their successful, popular establishment. Their staff, their friends. The only people who thought leaving an abusive relationship was easy were those who had never been in one.
She turned away, back toward where she’d parked her car.
“I’m going to go,” she announced, her voice shaky. Her legs trembled beneath her as she strode as confidently as she could to her beat-up old Mazda, but it was pretty hard to walk on legs that were like jelly and when she finally reached it she clung to the side, her hands pressed against the hard metal, steadying herself. Willing her heart to stop pounding, the tears to stop burning at her eyes, and her legs to find the strength to hold her up properly.
“This was a mistake,” she murmured, leaning forward to rest her head on top of her hatchback, before straightening up quickly when the hot metal, warmed from the sun, burned her cheek. Reaching down, she opened the door and slumped down into the seat. She was in no state to drive, but she’d rest a moment, gather her wits.
Too late. Jason’s footsteps crunched on the gravel just metres away from her and in another second she heard his deep voice.
“Get out of the car, Catherine. Let me apologise. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
When she didn’t immediately move, he went around to the other side of her car and hopped in too, squishing into the passenger seat, his large frame too big for her small car. He reached for her hand, entwining his fingers through hers as he raised her knuckles to his lips.
“I’m sorry,” he said, not taking his eyes off her for a second.
She didn’t reply, and he didn’t offer anything else. They both just sat there, side by side, in silence, tension fizzing in the air between them. Something wet and warm touched her wrist and a weight landed on her thigh. A paw. A velvety, furry nose. Zoda. Or was it Milo? She couldn’t tell the difference between them, they both looked the same to her. It had been years since she’d felt the nuzzling comfort of a dog and now, just like back then, the big Labrador’s calming presence helped soothe her frazzled nerves.
“Whatcha doing, boy?” she asked the dog, stroking between his ears.
Beside her, Jason grinned. “I’m glad Milo can get you to open up, even if I can’t. He’s a big softie, that one. Can always tell when someone’s upset.”
Despite her despair, a half-smile played across her lips. “Jag used to be the same.”
She flinched, just briefly, at Jason’s touch on her arm. “Hop out of the car,” he said. “Please.” He touched her face, his fingers rough against her cheek. His thumb brushed across her lips in a gentle caress. “I was angry at what he did to you. I wasn’t trying to upset you. I’m sorry. Come on, Catherine, please.”
Jason had never really been the cajoling type. He’d been kind, and at times very patient, and he was the most understanding man she’d ever met, but he’d also been straight-up and abrupt. Cajoling wasn’t really his style. She wanted to hear more of it.
“What do I get if I do as you say?” She caught his eye, grinning cheekily.
Jason took the bait. He returned her flirty smile, winking rakishly, sliding his hand across her face again. “What do you want? Do you want to come riding? Do you want to come inside for lunch? Do you want to muck out some stalls?”
Catherine giggled. “Shovelling shit! Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse!” She reached across Jason and opened the glovebox, pulling out a battered navy cap withhalf marathonemblazoned across the front in bright yellow block letters. “Let me get my head gear on and let’s go.”
“Half marathon,” Jason read. “You run?”
Catherine nodded. “Yep. It was my escape. If we were at home, I went running after every argument, to clear my head. Ran so much I got fit enough to do a half-marathon. Did the whole thing without stopping. Made good time, too!” She grinned, a mix of proud and sheepish. “It probably wasn’t the best way to handle the situation but I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Don’t run from me,” he said quietly.
Catherine smirked. “Well, don’t make me want to run.”
Jason frowned. “No, I’m serious. Talk to me, Catherine. Don’t run away. We can run together, if you want.”
She dropped the cap on the console between them as Jason’s fingers found their way to her face again, turning her so she was looking at him. “I mean it, Catherine.” His voice was sober. It was the most serious she’d heard him all morning. “Don’t ever run from me. Talk to me. Run with me. But don’t run away.”
Catherine couldn’t tear her gaze away from his. He looked so earnest, and his eyes pleaded with her to understand. “This is really important to you, isn’t it?”
He nodded.
“But why?”
Immense grief flashed across his face, just briefly, so quick she thought she’d imagined it. He shook his head.
