“I’m sorry I made you worry,” I told him honestly. “I didn’t mean for you to get the cops involved. I should have left a note.”
His lip curled. “You think I care about that now? I was worried about you! Of course I called the cops. I loved you, Vera. I would have done whatever it took to keep you. I would have changed. I would have bent over backward to make you happy. But you didn’t give me a chance. You didn’t even involve me in the conversation.” He paused, seeming to gather his thoughts. Then he added, “How could you just leave like that? How could you walk away from everything we had without saying goodbye?”
The night was hot as hell, but my fingers were ice cold. I took another step back. I needed to close for the night. I needed to lock the windows and turn off the lights and curl up on the floor until he went away.
A sob caught in my throat and I started blinking rapidly to hold back the tears. What if he didn’t go away?
What if he didn’t leave?
He sounded so nice. He was the penitent boyfriend, heartbroken by the girl he thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with. But oh, how his selective memory could play tricks on us both.
He didn’t remember all the yelling, all the name-calling. He couldn’t recall the time he slapped me. Or yanked me to the ground by my hair. He didn’t remember the bruises on my arms I had to hide. Or the time he’d thrown a plate at me because he didn’t like something I’d made. He didn’t remember the days I spent walking on eggshells just to keep the peace or the nights spent curled in the fetal position trying not to shake the bed with my frightened sobs.
He only remembered what he wanted to. And he was going to use that idyllic history to paint a picture of our relationship that never existed. He’d done it a hundred times before.
The problem previously was that I always bought into the illusion. Everyone was flawed. He would try to change for me. He loved me. He didn’t hit me that hard, I just bruised really easily. I should know better than to talk back to him by now. I shouldn’t have made him so angry.
I should have kept my mouth shut.
I should have worn the dress he liked. Or made the food he wanted. Or remembered to record the show he’d asked me to.
It was always my fault. He always hurt me because of something I did. He didn’t want to. He never wanted to hurt me. But sometimes I pushed him too far.
God, what a sick game.
I knew better now. At least my head did. I’d spent the last year analyzing everything I did wrong. And then every single thing he did wrong. I forced myself to relive traumatizing memories so I could guard myself against it happening again.
But my heart hadn’t seemed to learn the lesson. Not that I still loved Derrek. I hadn’t loved him in a very long time. But I couldn’t stop from reacting when he laid on the guilt like this.
My instinctual reaction was to apologize. To him. For leaving him. See? This was why I couldn’t trust myself in a new relationship. I didn’t know how to stand up for myself. I didn’t know how to be anything but a doormat.
And if it hadn’t been for the past couple of months, I probably would have. But Killian had been good for something. He’d taught me how to fight. He’d taught me how to stand up for myself.
He hadn’t meant to teach me this particular lesson, but he’d done it without demeaning me, without stripping me of dignity and self-worth.
If anything, Killian had helped me restore some of my confidence; he’d helped me find myself again.
And it was for that reason alone, I held Derrek’s apologetic gaze and whispered as bravely as I could, “Do you really not know why I left you?”
A line of customers formed while he stood in front of me, wielding his sick magic. A few people had wandered out of Greenlight, the nearest bar. They laughed and chatted and didn’t notice that I was crumbling to pieces right in front of them.
I was immediately embarrassed, ashamed, afraid they could look at the two of us and know exactly how I gave him permission to abuse me. It was crazy and they kept their distance, but I just wanted Derrek gone. I never wanted to see him again, let alone have this conversation publically.
His eyes flashed with hurt like I’d wounded him. “I really don’t know, Vera. You were it for me. You were everything. And then you just disappeared. How can I move on when I don’t even know what happened?”
“I can’t do this right now,” I told him. “I’m working.” To the crowd, I said, “I’m sorry. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Two people at the back of the line wandered off, not interested in waiting around while I sorted out my relationship drama. Another guy threw his hands in the air, frustrated with the wait.
“Derrek, you have to go. I have a restaurant to run.”
“That’s another thing. This isn’t a restaurant. This is a trailer. You belong in a kitchen. You belong in one of the best kitchens. You’re too damn talented for food like this.”
I ignored his words, letting them bounce off me with little impact. At least for now. Later, when I was safely tucked in my bed with all the doors locked, I could fully absorb them. “Derrek, you need to leave. I mean it.”
“You don’t need this place, Vera. You probably haven’t heard. Telltale Heart launched. It’s getting great reviews. There has been some national buzz about it. About me. It’s everything we wanted. You belong in Charlotte with me. By my side.”
Fire seared through me, sparked by the original argument. I was good enough for a girlfriend, but not an employee. Not that I even wanted to work for him. But it was the principle. “By your side, but not in your kitchen?”
“What do you mean by that? Vera, God, I need you. Don’t you hear what I’m saying? I need you with me. In my life, however I can have you. If that’s in the kitchen, then fine. But just come home.”
His words were like daggers in my gut. Or worse, letter openers-sharp enough to penetrate, but dull enough to hurt like hell. I threw all the steel I’d acquired over the last year into my tone and remained firm. “Derrek, I have to work. I need you to leave.”
“When can I see you again?”
“You can’t.”
“I still have all your stuff. I need to give it back to you. We can meet tomorrow to discuss the details.”
“Leave. Now.”
“Not until you agree to meet me, to talk this out. It’s a misunderstanding, Vera. You have to know I will do whatever it takes to get you back.”
“Vera, are you okay?”
Oh, thank God. I nearly sank to my knees at the sound of Wyatt’s voice. “Yes.” Now that someone familiar was here, the grit oozed out of me, leaving me trembling and teary-eyed. “I need help, Wyatt. Can you step inside for a second? Vann had a date.”
Wyatt glanced back at Lilou. For a second I was afraid he was going to tell me no. “Can you call Killian? Or text him. Tell him what’s going on and that I’m going to help you for the rest of the night. I left my cell in the kitchen.”