CHAPTER 10 | Dallas
?CHAPTER 10
Dallas
I did not sleep well last night. It’s not the floor’s fault. I can usually sleep anywhere; regardless, my mind kept me on edge. Every time Abby shifted in bed, I woke up. Every time I heard the smallest noise outside the bedroom door, I braced myself. I know Sam can’t track Abby’s phone anymore, but I didn’t know if he wrote this address down after yesterday’s call.
I pull the blanket off my legs as quietly as I can and stand up. Abby still lies in bed. Black hair scatters my pillow. She was restless last night. A fist clenches the comforter like she’s afraid of what she might wake up to.
Fear can either tear you apart or build you up. Somehow, I think it’s done both for Abby. I think she’s wanted to escape Sam for a while, but fear has held her hostage. Sam has held her hostage. I can’t imagine he’s made it easy to have a life of her own, especially if he’s constantly watching her location and sending out a “rescue team” to check on her. On the other hand, she’s come out of it alive. That’s all her doing.
Coffee slowly drips into the pot, the smell wafting through the air. It’s not until I’m washing my hands in the bathroom that I notice my bruised knuckles. I’ve punched two guys in as many days. The purple and blue knuckles are tender and slightly swollen. Fighting isn’t exactly my strong suit or my first choice, but there’s only so much reasoning you can do when someone’s in such a crazed head space. I can’t imagine asking nicely would have gone over very well.
“Dal?” Rose calls from the living room.
I quickly dry my hands off, lightly dabbing at the bruises, and head out to the kitchen. “Coffee’s almost done. You want tea?”
She rises from the couch and takes a seat on a bar stool, rubbing her eyes. “Yeah. Did you leave in the middle of the night? I heard the front door shut, but to be honest, I was way too tired to make sure no one was robbing us.”
I chuckle, pouring coffee into a mug for me before placing a mug of water into the microwave for a couple minutes. I take a small sip of mine, pulling back quickly as the heat scorches my tongue. “Maybe we should get a guard dog for you.” I roll my eyes. “I did leave. I had to take care of ... a situation.”
“Sounds ominous.” She eyes me curiously, waiting for me to say more.
“Yeah, uh ... To make a complicated story short, Abby slept over again. Someone broke into her apartment.”
“What?” she almost yells but clamps her hand over her mouth at the same time the microwave beeps.
“Shhh!” I snap, pulling the microwave door open to stop the noise. My eyes widen as I glance down the hall, waiting to hear if her outburst woke Abby.
Following my line of sight, she pauses a minute before continuing. “Sorry.” Her face scrunches. “Who broke in? Is she okay? Did she call you? Did the cops find the guy?” She rattles off her questions with a whisper, barely pausing to breathe.
I hand her the hot mug of water and she slips the tea bag into it, dipping it in and out a few times before letting it settle at the bottom. “First of all, she’s okay. She wasn’t hurt. Though, I fear she may have been if I didn’t show up when I did.” I hang my head as the thought sends a wave of horror through me. Being empathetic about the situation is one thing, but the level of worry I have for Abby is more than I’m used to. Then again, I haven’t ever been in a situation like this. “And second, I don’t know the guy. She does. But it seems like her boyfriend, well, ex-boyfriend now I hope, sent him. She texted me when she heard pounding on her door. And she wouldn’t let me call the cops. I tried. I really tried. But she begged me not to.”
Rose doesn’t say anything. Instead, she raises her brows, blinks a few times dramatically, and takes another sip of her tea. She gets up and comes over to my side. She leans her head on my arm in an attempt to be sympathetic. “You’re too young for this shit.” I let out a chuckle. “You should talk to mom about all this. She would likely have some ideas on how to handle the situation. And probably some choice words.”
“That was my thought, too, but I don’t know how to bring this up, or if I should get anyone else involved. Abby seems very adamant that the more people involved, the worse it’ll get for her.”
She sighs. “I would still talk to Mom. You could be vague about who it’s about.” She shrugs. “I have to get dressed. I have an interview this morning before I leave,” she says, moving toward the living room. She pulls out some clothes from her suitcase and heads for the bathroom.
When she reappears a few minutes later, I ask, “Where at?”
“Beans and Berries, the new coffee and smoothie place downtown.” She applies some mascara using the mirror on one of her makeup items.
“Cool. Good luck. I’ll probably be at work when you head home so text me after to let me know how it goes.”
“Okay. I’ll see you later.” She slips into a pair of heels before heading out the door.
The silence settles as her heels clicking down the hallway disappear. I hear the air conditioning turn on and the vent by my feet begins to cool them as I sip the coffee and revel in the room’s silence. A moment later, I hear the bedroom door open. There’s a hesitation between the door’s initial creak and the footsteps that follow. Abby’s head peers around the corner before she looks around the rest of the empty apartment and quietly takes a seat where Rose was sitting a moment ago. The same gray blanket from yesterday is wrapped around her shoulders.
“Good morning,” I greet with a wide smile. The air feels stiff, but not quite awkward.
She sets a smile on her lips although it seems a little forced. “Morning. Do you have any coffee left?” she asks, leaning her elbows on the counter.
She catches my eyes before I move to the coffee pot. “Of course, there’s still coffee. What kind of a question is that?” I chuckle, trying to ease the tension a bit. “Do you want anything in it?”
“Just creamer, please.”
Small fingers slip through the handle of the mug, and each sip she takes seems to provide a sense of immense relief. She closes her eyes every time the mug meets her pink, round lips. She pulls her knee up and rests the mug on top of it. She’s changed since going to bed last night. The blanket hanging off the back of the stool reveals an oversized band tee. A small cut down the middle of the neckline allows the fabric to hang slightly over one shoulder. Sharp black lines of a large tattoo peak over from her back jutting out in every direction. How did I not noticed that before?
I should ask how she’s doing. Last night was intense. But is bringing it up a good idea? It’s the elephant in the room, and it’s sitting heavy on my chest. “So,” I start, dragging out the conversation. Here we go. “I don’t really know how to bring this up casually, so I’m just going to ask. How are you after last night?”
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she takes a moment to stare at the brown liquid swirling around in her mug. She takes a long deep breath before opening her mouth. “I’m ...” she starts but stops herself. She looks deep in thought. I don’t blame her for not knowing. I can’t imagine how many emotions must be rifling through her right now.
“You don’t have to answer. I just want to make sure you’re okay. I know I’ve already asked that a billion times, but I guess I don’t know what else to ask. And it’s okay if you’re not okay. I’m here for you in that, too.” I pause, assessing her face as she takes in my incessant word vomit. “Is there anything you need from me? Or anything I can do to help?”
Her lips purse to the side like she’s biting at the inside of her cheek, debating her next move. “I think I’d rather not talk about it right now,” she says, finally looking at me. I see the fear still residing in her, the sadness rooted deep in her eyes. The anger pokes at her cheeks causing the bruise to look more prominent, and her chest rises and falls with each worry-filled breath. She takes a sip from her cup and forces a sweet smile as if trying to play off the situation.
“Of course. I won’t push anymore. When you’re ready, know that I’m here. I’ll be ready.”
“Thank you.” She rests her chin on her knee and sighs. A moment passes in silence as we both finish our much-needed caffeine. She sets her empty mug on the counter. “Do you ...” She lets out a long sigh. “Do you think I made the right choice?”
“Right choice? In what aspect? Do I think you made the right choice to get out of that relationship? Absolutely. Did you make the right choice to call me? One hundred and ten percent. Did you make the right choice to stand up for yourself? No doubt in my mind. Abby, you made the right choice. A hard one, but you made the right one.” I pause, waiting to see how she reacts.
She sniffs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “I just ... I’m defective, Dallas. Broken. Shattered into a million tiny pieces. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t know who I am. I feel like I’ve lost everything. I feel like I’m barely floating above water, and all those pieces are lost at sea.” She pulls the collar of her shirt up to wipe away a tear. Her red puffy eyes look like they’re ready to break again. I make my way over to her side. She covers her eyes with the palms of her hands like she doesn’t want me to see her cry. Her hair falls over her face like a black veil, shielding her from the outside world.
I don’t know what to say to her. I want to fix this. But how? And how do I help her? Every part of me yearns to make things right. And something in me boils with anger for those who have hurt her. Where is this coming from? I’ve never felt this unbridled desire before. I’ve tried so hard to keep this greed at bay, but then Abby walks into my life and my heart breaks for her. And craves her, all of her. Fuck.
“You’re not defective. I promise you; you’re doing everything to stay above water, and I will help you stay above water. I won’t let you drown.” I pause while she takes in a few sharp breaths. “I’ll scour the universe for the pieces that make you whole.”
She leans back on her stool and stares at me a moment before turning her attention to the ceiling. Tears trail down her temples, soaking into her hairline. A stray hair sticks to her damp cheek. I move my thumb to brush it off and she leans into my hand, the heat of her skin seeping into my palm. My thumb trails under her eyes as they drift closed. I move closer, pulling her head to my shoulder. Soft tears coat my shirt, the fabric now damp, but I don’t move. I won’t. I refuse to be another person in her life who leaves her alone when she needs someone the most. We sit for a while in silence, time ticking by slowly. She takes a final deep breath and sits up, wiping her face dry with her shirt.
“Sorry. I don’t know why I did that.”
“Abby, I’m glad you feel comfortable with me. I want you to feel comfortable with me.” I cock my head to the side, trying to coax her gaze to mine. When she does, her brows scrunch together.
“Why?” she asks, but I don’t understand the question.
“Why what?” I ask softly.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
I sigh, taking in the question. I turn to face her, hoping she will do the same. “Hey, look at me.” I wait for her to turn toward me. After a second of hesitation, she spins on her chair, our knees almost touching. She looks up. “You deserve kindness. You deserve happiness. You deserve love, but in the right way. This ‘love’ Sam has been giving you? That’s not love. That’s torture. No one deserves that. And, to be honest, I have no reason not to be nice to you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
I don’t know how, in such a short amount of time, I have developed such a need to protect this woman. She piques my curiosity in a way I’ve never experienced.
Abby looks down, picking at her fingers. “Okay,” is all she says.
“Do you trust me? Do you believe me?” I ask, hoping she will match my gaze again.
She doesn’t look up, but she manages to say, “I’ll try.”
“That’s all I ask. I promise you I will keep you safe. You can stay here. I’d rather you stay here. You can keep sleeping in my room and I’ll take the couch until we can get another bed put in the third bedroom. You should know, I do have a roommate. His name is Logan. He’s my best friend. But you can trust him, too.” She glances at the closed door down the hall. “He’s not here this weekend. He’s visiting his family.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“I hope you do.” I stand up and put both mugs in the sink. “I have to get ready for work. You are welcome to stay here, but if you have things to do, please be careful.”
“Where do you work?” she asks, finally looking at me.
“I’m a bartender at Landry’s. It’s a bar downtown. Have you been there?”
My mind eases when I hear a chuckle leave her mouth. “A college guy and a bartender that doesn’t drink. You really are a bizarre specimen. But yeah, I’ve been there a few times.”
I laugh, the comment a nice reprieve from the tense discussion a moment ago. “Indeed, I am. I’m going to get dressed. Holler if you need anything.” I leave her in the kitchen and change into my work uniform. Just as I’m pulling my belt through the final loop, a knock sounds on my door. “Yeah? You can come in. I’m dressed.” I clasp the belt together as the door slowly opens. Abby peers around the edge before pushing the door open completely.
“Sorry. Do you think I ... Could I, um ...” she stutters, but finally asks her question. She runs a hand through her messy hair. “Could I come with you? Or would that be too much of an inconvenience? I just don’t think I’m ready to be alone yet. I could stay here if I need to. Sorry. I’ll just stay here. Or go back to my apartment if—”
“Abby,” I cut off her rambling. “You are more than welcome to come with. Today shouldn't be too busy.”
The relief that coats her face is the best expression I’ve seen from her all morning. My nerves relax a little at the thought. “Why don’t you get dressed? I have to leave in about ten minutes. Is that enough time for you to get ready?”
“Yeah. I’m not exactly high maintenance.”
She’s right. She’s not high maintenance. She was dressed in a minute and threw on some makeup in five. She grabbed her backpack and waited by the door for me to finish packing my things.
When we arrive, I tell her to sit anywhere. She chooses a small booth in the back corner, but she makes sure she places herself in a direct line of sight to my position at the bar.
As I prep for the day, I keep an eye on Abby. She pulls out her laptop and gets to work on whatever it is she needs to get done. Customers trickle in slowly; there’s usually a small rush of the Sunday morning churchgoers. Once I catch up on drinks for a large group table, I wander over to Abby with a glass of water in hand.
“You want anything to eat or drink?” I ask, setting the water down.
“No, I’m okay for now.” She smiles when she looks up.
“Okay. Let me know if you want anything. I’ll put it on my tab.” I head back to the bar, getting started on a beer order. Aubrey has the day off, thank God. Who knows how she’d react to me bringing another girl here? I don’t need her permission, but I don’t think she’d take it well.
Just before the lunch rush, a loud group of guys walks in. Laughter echoes through the mostly empty bar where they barely pay attention to the hostess who gets them a table. They all order the same light beer. All talls, so I get started filling glasses. They are seated near Abby’s booth and when I look past the group to her, she looks petrified. I set down their glasses and quickly place myself between her and the group, blocking her view. Her eyes remain wide.
“I know them. They were at the party on Friday. One of them is Sam’s friend. We had a bit of a ...” she trails off.
“It’s okay. I’ll move them to a different area. Just keep your head down for a second.” I head off to the group and give them a bogus excuse as to why we need to move their table. They don’t question it and move out of Abby’s sight to the new table. “Okay. I moved them. They shouldn’t bother you. I’ll keep an eye on them just in case.”
As the sun shifts in the sky, it slowly illuminates Abby’s face. She’s been shifting between her computer, and a couple of books, periodically jotting down notes in a notebook since I clocked in. Her face remains neutral though she’s put on a pair of what I’m assuming are reading glasses. The frames are clear and suit her face beautifully. And my God, my dick twitches at the sight, forcing me to take in a sharp breath and focus on something else.
When it’s finally time for my break, I tentatively approach Abby, who is still deeply focused on whatever she’s reading. A plate of mozzarella sticks seems like enough of an excuse. “Mind if I join you?”
The corners of her mouth tick up. “Only because you brought food.” She smiles fully this time and it’s a beautiful sight. She continues reading, barely looking up at me, but takes a bite after practically drowning it in marinara sauce.
“Are we trying to suffocate the cheese?” I ask, laughing.
“Ha, ha, ha,” she mocks, tipping her head side to side with each syllable. She dips another one before looking up at me and grins. “I may need more, though.”
I shake my head with another laugh. Her phone vibrates on the table as I slip out of the booth to get more sauce. Abby doesn’t get a word in before I hear muffled yelling from the woman on the other end. She gives me a small smile before turning away from me and pressing the phone to her ear.