I hear thudding as someone walks down the stairs. The door open, and Smith stands in front of me, looking sleepy and disheveled, his hair mussed on top. He blinks when he sees me. “Hey, what’s—” He stops talking and jerks to full attention, staring at my face. “What’s wrong, Aubrey?”
The knot that has been slowly building in my chest gets so big it’s unbearable, and I feel myself unravel. Hot tears burn the backs of my eyes, slide down my cheeks. “I…I’m scared, and I didn’t know where to go—”
That’s all I get out before Smith jerks me inside the doorway and locks the door behind me. He has my hand in a death grip and tugs me up the narrow stairwell to his apartment. I follow him, my palms clammy, clenching his hand so hard I’m almost afraid I might break his fingers off.
He sets me on the couch then takes a seat between my legs on the coffee table. Grips my shoulders and makes me look at him. “Aubrey. What. The fuck. Is going on. I need you to tell me everything.”
I sniffle and feel another sob erupt from my chest. I try to suck it back. “I…” I shudder and swipe my hands across my eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m just…” Deep breath, Aubrey. “I’m scared. I didn’t know where else to go.” I sob again, and again, and then I can’t stop crying.
With a move that happens so fast I can barely blink, Smith scoops me into his arms like I’m a doll and shifts us so he’s sitting on the couch, me on his lap. I wrap my arms around him and breathe in his scent, let the feel of his strong arms around me comfort me. My tears come, hot and heavy, and we sit there as he lets me cry for a few minutes. He says nothing, just silently stroking my hair, my back.
I accept his comfort and nuzzle into his neck. I know I’m getting him wet from my tears, but I try not to be self-conscious about it. Finally the tension in my lungs releases, and I can breathe again. I find myself drawing in a slow gulp of air, then releasing it.
Smith kisses my brow, and the tender gesture eases the pain in my heart. “Sweetheart, let me help you. Please. I’m worried.”
I swallow and sit back, looking him in the face. I swipe my eyes again to clear the tears. When I go to move off his lap and give him room, he frowns and clenches my hips to lock me into place.
I give a weak smile. “Sorry. I’m…really tired. And I came home to find a note from my ex-boyfriend on the door saying he’s found me.”
“I’m guessing that’s a bad thing,” he says quietly. “I need you to tell me why.”
I squirm a little, discomfort blooming in my lower belly. I bite my lower lip and look away. I don’t want to look at him while I tell what happened. “Roger and I met at a party. He was really sweet and attentive at first. Totally into me. He told me he felt connected and vulnerable in a way he never had, and I was drawn to it. I’d…” I clear my throat. “I’d only ever been with one man before him, and he was an emotional dud. So I found Roger’s focus flattering and compelling.”
Smith doesn’t say anything, just lets me continue. His hand rubs soft circles on my back, soothing me in a silent gesture. I close my eyes and let the sensation give me strength to confess.
“Things moved fast. Roger thought we should move in together a month after we dated, but I managed to hold him off another couple of months. I skipped out on my lease and moved in with him, because his place was bigger and he felt it was a good start for us to grow. That eventually we’d find a home together.” Images of those early times flash through my mind. Roger’s gentle coercion to get his way. How he made me feel that what he wanted was best for both of us.
“Roger grew more…controlling as time went on. It started with him chastising me about how I spent my money and spare time. He tried to make it sound reasonable at first, like he was just giving me advice and I was overreacting for getting upset. But then it became that he wanted to mesh our bank accounts together. Which I stupidly did.” I can feel the old, familiar sickness over my stupidity swirling in my gut.
“Go on,” Smith urges me. I can’t tell what he’s feeling right now; his voice is even and quiet. I’m kind of afraid he’s probably questioning the wisdom of being with someone like me, but I make myself continue.