Chapter 16
Evie
Evie, baby. There’s no way I heard August right.
He absolutely, undeniably did not call me “baby.” Not once has he ever called me that.
He’s called me princess, but that was just playful, sarcastic even.
This was careful and reverent. Entirely different.
But even in my anxious haze and in the firm comfort of his arms, I know my stomach did a violent swoop.
Because try as I might, I can’t deny that I love the sound of that nickname floating from August’s gruff, concerned voice.
But at this moment, every tense part of my body has relaxed while my forehead finds cooling solace on the passenger window of August’s SUV. There are a plethora of things I should be feeling right now. I’m grateful, and also confused, that the most profound of my feelings is peace.
I’m certain once I get back into my cottage I’ll be plagued with anger, embarrassment, and bone-deep regret.
I’m so angry with myself over my complete lack of self-control.
I can’t even go into a gallery without being stampeded by my own anxieties and emotions.
I’m angry at Dustin for giving me this trauma to begin with.
Easily one of the worst things about abusers is how unaffected they are.
I live the rest of my life anxious and a burden to those around me, while he wakes up unbothered and unscathed every day.
It’s the worst injustice. Falling in love with a narcissist is scarier than any masked man in your darkest horror film.
You know the man in the movie is a monster, but in real life, that plot twist doesn’t come to light until they’ve got you in so deep.
I’m so embarrassed and the rational part of me knows I don’t have to be.
But Emmett was a perfect gentleman and out of nowhere his date went boneless on him.
If he’s half as decent as he seems, he’s probably blaming himself for bringing me there and that heats me up inside.
He doesn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to have to physically and metaphorically carry me.
And all the people around us who saw. They will probably never forget the dramatic girl in the gallery. The incontinence of my emotions is debilitating and how painfully unfair it is that it’s not even my fault.
My resolution slats into place when I realize no one should have to deal with someone as unpredictable and shattered as me.
They tell you to find someone to carry your baggage with you, but this isn’t baggage, this is irreparable brokenness and no one deserves less than a whole, happy person.
And I am happy, don’t get me wrong. But I’m anything but whole.
The ribbon on the whole package of my misfortune is August seeing it all.
I wouldn’t put it past him to pull his daughter from my class or terminate our tutoring sessions because he can’t trust me to have control over myself.
It doesn’t matter that I’ve never once had an issue in my classroom.
My class is where I’m free to be creative and have some sense of control.
But it only takes one moment to break that trust, and I’m confident tonight is that moment for August. I can’t say that I blame him, I’m certain if I had my own daughter I would feel just the same.
For a lot of women, there's peace and security that come with being married. Having a loving partner to share and carry burdens with, feel unconditional love, and support in all your endeavors no matter how outrageous. And for some women that's exactly what marriage is. I’m not blind to that and I don’t think marriage is a shackling institution.
I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’d rather be alone than miserable. Not lonely, but alone.
And I’m self-aware enough to understand the other side of that coin.
I’m not abusive, but knowing I could succumb to my anxiety and panic at any moment feels to me like I’m doling out abuse.
Causing someone to live on edge and in fear of each moment.
It’s paralyzing and I refuse to make anyone feel that way.
All that considered, I regret this date.
I regret thinking that I could have that companionship and security when I don’t feel like I have that to offer.
I know one date doesn’t equate to marriage, but typically marriage only comes from dates.
Resolved and content in my single status, I feel guilty having somewhat led Emmett on.
I’ll tuck that regret away in the back of my mind and pull out the reminder when I start feeling hopeful to date again.
August doesn’t say anything to me while we drive to my house on the other side of our town’s lake. I’m thankful for the surprisingly companionable silence because there’s nothing he can do or say at this point to resolve anything that happened.
I sit up a little straighter and take quick glances at August in my periphery.
His outfit looks more relaxed than usual, a fitted white tee and simple black joggers that accentuate his thigh muscles very well.
I take a deep sigh hating this even more because I clearly interrupted what must’ve been a relaxing evening for him, and that’s when I realize there’s something off about this car ride.
“Where’s Adeline?” I ask genuinely curious but selfishly as a distraction from my internal crash out.
August raises his eyebrows seemingly in surprise that I’ve decided to initiate a conversation and I don’t blame him.
“She’s with Wilma, her nanny.” And now I feel even worse because this was definitely supposed to be a relaxing evening that August obviously planned for himself, but instead of taking care of his daughter he’s having to take care of me.
And that train of thought leads me to the next very obvious question.
“How did you even know where I was? Or that I needed help?” And why did you come? I want to know the “why” even more than the “how” but these seem like safer questions to ask.
“Thea told me you called her and that it was an emergency. She said she would’ve come herself, but something about your dog and too much cheese came up and she couldn’t leave her alone by herself.
You asked me that in the gallery, but you were just coming-to so you might have forgotten.
” Well great, now I’m worried about Maple and some obvious lapse in memory.
That stinking dog, I swear she’s made of half cheese and it wrecks her stomach every single time.
I already know the mess I’m going to find when I get home.
That would cause some people to stress out, but for me, that’s a situation I can actually control.
Clean up and move on. Simple and easy to put into a mental box.
Messes are no big deal, something I’ve learned from my years teaching small humans who thrive creatively by making messes.
“Well, thank you for picking me up. I’m sorry, I’m sure I ruined your night.
I’m definitely not your responsibility and…
” I’m cut off by a gentle but firm grip on my leg and every part of my body is suddenly attentive and hypersensitive.
I whip my head in August’s direction to find him still staring through the windshield.
I was kind of hoping for some eye contact, a real moving moment here where he was already looking at me, but I guess I can’t complain about safe driving.
We pull down my driveway and I regret that we don’t live in a big city that takes forty minutes to drive to the other side.
August parks himself next to my car, gets out, and is around to my door before I can even process it.
How very gentlemanly of him. Holding out a hand he politely helps me out of the car.
This contact feels more comforting than electrifying and I’m baffled that this same hand can produce two very different feelings.
August seems to subconsciously meet me where I need him but I just chalk it up to the caretaker in him.
“Thank you, you didn't have to do that. All of this.” I motion with both hands around us like that somehow encompasses all he’s done for me tonight. “It really wasn’t your responsibility, but I’m very appreciative.”
“You may not technically be my responsibility, but you’re my daughter’s teacher and a great tutor to her, so I suppose it’s in my best interest.” August stands so close to me outside of my passenger door, and despite being out in the open on a crisp, clear evening, everything right now feels hot and stifling.
He seems to be battling something within himself and I know as a teacher that I need to give people time to think through their thoughts without prodding.
So that’s what I let August do, despite the slightly uncomfortable tension bouncing off invisible wires between us.
He takes a single step closer to me effectively backing me into the car, seeming to have reached some resolve in his mind. My heart is racing and I’m horrified that he’s going to hear it slamming inside my chest.
I want to fall into August when he’s this close to me.
So much happened tonight with Emmett and it feels like too much to process on my own.
August seems like a safe place. Everything I’ve seen between how he cares for and interacts with his daughter, and has even taken care of me when he didn’t need to, tells me enough about his character to know that he is genuinely a safe place to be.
But there’s a bone deep part of me, that when I’m backed into a corner, I submit.
That part is trained, it’s almost instinctual, and it’s everywhere.
It’s the riskless reaction. If I keep my eyes down and words few, nothing will harm me.
Tears start to well on my eyelines, entirely unbidden.
Nothing has even happened to cause them except that August took one step toward me and he’s taller than me, and my compulsions tell me to cower.
I’m apprehensive for no reason and it’s making my skin clammy and my breaths few and short. I feel like all of the emotions from the night are manifesting themselves right at this exact moment.
August must have noticed something shrink in me because it’s then that he gently grabs my chin between his thumb and index finger, and guides my eyes up to his.
Not a forceful guidance, no, this is equivalence.
With care and tenderness, and in true August fashion–few to no words–he is showing me we are equals.
“Evie.” He breathes my name like oxygen and takes the pads of both of his thumbs and wipes away the tears that started dropping from my eyeline.
I just stare without fear into the eyes of my most favorite shade of green. “Who did this to you?”