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Istared at Hank’s text. He was moving to Eugene after we’d broke up?
Sally: You think I’m a sociopath. That I have “a mental health condition in which a person consistently shows no regard for right and wrong and ignores the rights and feelings of others.” That’s a quote from the Mayo Clinic I just looked up.
Hank: Wrong of me to throw around labels.
Hank: You’re brave and fearless in a way that terrifies me sometimes and also ties up my heart in knots.
Hank: I’ve loved you since we were kids Sally. You started sleeping with that meathead when you were fourteen. Then you married a man twice your age at nineteen after dating him for a couple months. Finally, you give us a chance—but only for a couple days. It broke me a little.
Hank: But after you walked away from me last weekend I saw myself clearly. I’ve been impatient. Too wrapped up in what I want.
Hank: I love you. I’m not angry anymore. Except that youalmost got yourself killed with that damn stunt. If you’d died I’d be lost.
Hank: I’ll be there soon. I’ve been working on this practically since you left. I found a little cabin on the river to rent out. Come hiking with me. Charley will love it. We could try boating.
I hugged the phone to my chest and stared at the ceiling. I’m not someone who flies into a rage often but I do go cold. After everything we’d been through, I’d decided I didn’t want to be with an emotionally high-strung man that would always be holding grudges against me. Wouldn’t it just be a matter of time before he found the next thing to be angry about?
Sally: You moving here doesn’t mean we’ll be together. I am probably on the low-end of the empathy spectrum. Your wants and needs are yours. I’ll decide what I do.
Hank: Got it.
I stared suspiciously at my phone. Was he still moving out here? I hugged myself, my eyes stinging and my throat thick.
“Damnit.” My shoulders hunched, a sob catching in my throat. It took me a while to fall asleep that night.
The next day, after our morning nap, Charley woofed, standing up on his hind legs and putting his paws on the side of the bed. My bruised rib and abdomen were still too tender for a workout, but I needed to move.
“What do you say we blow this popsicle stand? Let’s go to the park.”
Charley stuck his tongue out and smiled. Then he dashed over to his stash of toys, grabbed a ball with his mouth, and brought it back to me.
“Message received. You’re ready for fetch.”
Our first outing was a bit of a draw. Charley hadn’t been in a car since leaving the animal shelter and the entire experience had him barking frantically while trying to bust out ofhis kennel. It didn’t help that there were still a couple of journalists, or perhaps paparazzi is the correct term, waiting to ambush my car.
The public relations company I’d hired was doing a lot to settle everything down and already there was less interest. I’d put out statements, recorded a couple videos, and was in the process of responding to as many inquiries as I could with the PR firm’s help and the advice of my lawyer. We had scheduled a couple of interviews with photography. Finally telling my side of the story was changing the narrative in a mostly positive way.
Miller had been caught. Interest was waning without the suspense of my death looming around the next corner.
On Wednesday Charley and I left the house again to visit Ms. Margie. They greeted each other like long lost close friends and spent most of the visit snuggling on her big recliner.
“Well, dear,” said Ms. Margie, scratching behind Charley’s ears while his eyes shut in ecstasy. “You took care of that stalker, I saw.”
I sat up straighter. “Yes, I did. He’s caught for good now.”
She nodded at me, pursing her lips. “An evil man like that should be kept away from people.”
I didn’t know if I believed in evil exactly—but Miller had almost convinced me. “Looking in his eyes gave me the chills. Like an endless cold abyss.”
“Oh, you’re giving me goosebumps.”
“Maybe his, uh, lustful fixation on me kept him from doing a whole lot of harm. He had a truck full of guns and ammo.”
Ms. Margie shook her head. “People these days. Tell me some good news—when do I get to meet your young man?”
I forced a smile on my face. “Which one?”
She shook a finger at me. “People are more like dogs than cats, most of us. We don’t want to be alone.”
