CHAPTER 29 | Abby
R ose and I slip in just after the game has started. We find an open area near the home dugout. It’s the bottom of the first inning, no score yet, Oxly is up to bat. Our school mascot, Owen the Owl—creative, I know—stands to the left of the dugout, ready to cheer with each hit.
Rose watches intently as a fly ball soars into a gloved hand. When I notice Dallas warming up to bat, I take a deep breath.
I have avoided him for almost two days. I barely wanted to come today, but I was torn between trying to stay mad at him and wanting to support him. So here I sit. I’m not sure if the pit in my stomach is because I want to curse him for the way he reacted in his dad’s office, or if it’s because I’ve been forcing myself to ignore him for over twenty-four hours. Not being able to touch him, talk to him, even simply not seeing him smile has been torture. But I’ve been telling myself it’s for my own good, and his. Whatever we have, this “situationship,” it won’t last if we’re both going to react this badly to something so seemingly small in the grand scheme of things. Neither one of us has tried talking to the other. Dallas keeps leaving me notes or texts, but they’ve been small things like telling me Rose was coming or letting me know he’s leaving for work. No emotion. But the apartment feels heavy. I can feel how dense the air is. The tension is palpable.
But is that anger? Regret? Or lust? Desire? Because I’m feeling all of those. And if I had to guess, so is he.
Rose stands up, arms in the air as someone hits a home run. Connor jogs around the bases, pumping a fist in the air. He blows the crowd a kiss as he comes into home plate.
The announcer blares over the loudspeaker, “A home run from number 37, shortstop, Connor Jenkins. 1-0 Oxly. Two outs.”
“Wooo!” Rose cheers, clapping rapidly.
Connor high-fives Dallas on his way back to the dugout while Dallas makes his way to home plate. He takes a few last-minute practice swings before digging his feet in, the bat hovering over his right shoulder. The crowd silences in anticipation. And just like that, I find myself engulfed in the game just as much as everyone else. Watching him. Observing his every move, every muscle, every slight shift of his feet. A calm comes over me that only two things can now initiate. Dallas swings as a fastball flies past him, landing in the catcher’s mitt. He takes a step back, cracking his neck in both directions before taking his position again. A ball this time. He swings at a curveball, missing by a hair. Two strikes. Two outs. His final swing ricochets off his bat, sending it far into left field. It hits the ground as he passes first base. The crowd cheers around me, but my hands are glued together, praying he makes it to second. My hopes are broken as the ball makes it to second base before he does.
He shakes his head as he walks back, eyes fixed on the ground. He doesn’t look at the crowd and disappears behind the tarp blocking the sun.
As the game progresses, I only see him when he comes out to catch or hit. He never looks to the crowd. His sole focus is on the game.
My heart begs for him to find me in the bleachers. To share a moment of peace even this far away from each other. I want him to look at me so I can give him some reassurance, so he knows I won’t stay mad at him forever. But he never does.
Not until after the final play.
All of Oxly goes crazy, running onto the field in hoards to congratulate the team on their win. A small smile rests on his face as he looks around. Rose and I slowly wander down, avoiding the large crowd. We stand by the open gate. I lean on the chain link fence as Dallas hugs Logan and a few other players. When he turns, he finds me. Our eyes meet and a swift calm wave washes over me. This. That look. That’s what I need. His features fall flat enough that most people would think there’s no emotion there, but I can see it. Relief. Pleading eagerness. Pain. And ... remorse.
Rose doesn’t move as I take a few steps forward. Dallas jogs to me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and picking me up to swing me in circles. This is the relief. His touch. The whole world is melting around us. After nothing for two days, I can’t get enough of him. His breath on my neck sends a shiver down my spine, settling at its base.
I almost want to whimper when he sets me down, but both hands tangle in my hair as he presses his lips to mine. They’re hard, yet tender. Greedy, yet generous. This is the eagerness. He wants more. I want more.
After a few hard kisses, he pulls back, looking between my eyes. I could get lost in those eyes. I’m sure I have before, and it won't be the last time. He places a long delicate kiss on my forehead. Remorse. And pain.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, pulling me into a tight hug.
“I know. I’m sorry, too,” I whisper back. He squeezes a little tighter in acknowledgment.
We pull away as the large crowd moves past us, pulling us out of our own little world.
Rose walks toward us. “Congrats, Dal,” she says, pulling him into a hug. “I’m glad to see you two made up.” A cheeky smile fills her face.
I take his hand in mine. “Oh, we’ve still got a lot to talk about. He’s not getting off that easily.”
Dallas smirks, then winks. “Try me.”
“Okay, ew. I’m right here.” Rose throws both hands up before quickly turning away.
We both laugh. “I’ll see you at home?” Dallas asks, pausing in front of the locker room door. I nod and give him a peck on the lips. He smiles before disappearing through the door.
***
“S o,” Rose starts, as she’s packing her overnight bag, “you two good now?”
I sigh, but I’m smiling. I look down at my hands, my voice quiet, “Like I said, we need to talk about ... everything before I’m ready to commit fully.” I sit crisscross on the couch, watching her fold a pink tank top into her bag.
“But?” She looks up from her clothes for a moment. I twist my brows together. “Oh, don’t give me that. I could hear the but coming from a mile away.”
“But,” I try to continue, debating on how honest to be. What do I have to lose? “I think this is the sappiest thing I’ll ever say, but I don’t know how to live without him.”
Rose raises both brows, completely halting all movement. A smile creeps up her face, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Ooooh, you like him,” she teases, poking my leg. She gasps, “Dare I say, love him?”
I flinch away but can’t help my laughter. Because it’s true. I do like him. Maybe I love him. I don’t know yet. It’s still early. But time will tell. And so will this pending conversation.
The boys burst through the door, their voices carrying loudly through the apartment.
“And did you see the way that guy smashed it into right field? I don’t think I’ve ever seen Connor run that fast before.” Logan laughs, closing the door a little too hard.
“No kidding. I can’t believe he caught it, though.”
Dallas drops his keys and phone on the counter before swiftly moving to his room to drop his bag. When he comes back out, he plants himself next to me on the couch. He rests his arm on the back of the couch, so I shift my weight to lean into him.
Rose smiles from where she sits on the floor, placing the last few items into her bag. “I’m not going to ask what last night was about, at least not yet,” she says, looking to Dallas with a provisional look in her eye, “but I am glad to see you two happy again. So now, I take my leave.” She stands, giving a mock bow before heaving her bag over her shoulder. “Love you,” she says to Dallas, bending to hug him from the couch.
“Love you, too. Thanks for coming over on such short notice ... and for not questioning it too much. I promise I’ll explain everything at some point.”
“Oh, you absolutely will. And give Mom a call. She misses you.” She smiles before heading out the door.
Dallas takes a long deep breath, tipping his head against the back of the couch. I adjust my head to rest in the soft spot of his shoulder. Silence fills the room for a few minutes.
I’m not ready for the quiet to end when Dallas pipes up. “So, I need to apologize.” He sits up, resting his elbows on his knees.
That’s when I see the red and bruised knuckles. “What happened?” I ask, pulling his hands into mine.
“Uh, nothing.” He hangs his head, biting the inside of his lip.
“That’s not nothing, Dal.” I look at him with a slight tilt of my head.
“I’m okay. I promise.” He pulls his hands back and rubs his thighs.
I twist my brows together but decide to drop it. The last thing we need is more drama. I just need to trust that he’d tell me if it was important, which is so far out of my comfort zone after the last few weeks. “All right.” An awkward silence fills the air again before Dallas picks up where he was a moment ago.
“So, I know I already apologized, but I truly am sorry. I reacted like a child. It was uncalled for and so out of line. I should have just asked you about it later at home, but after my last relationship, I don’t do well with secrets, which made bailing my first response.”
“I mean, yeah, I agree. But I’m sorry, too. For not telling you sooner. I shouldn’t have kept that from you.”
“Yeah, why didn’t you?” He shifts on the couch, pulling a knee up to turn toward me.
I let out a breathy laugh. “Well, I didn’t really expect you to take it well.”
“I mean, I didn’t, so fair.” He chuckles, lightening the tension. “But I wouldn’t have reacted so harshly if you’d have told me sooner.”
“True. But when I found out who your dad was, I panicked. Logan and I were talking and he mentioned him. That’s how I found out. I never told Logan I worked for him either, just so that’s clear. I kept trying to find the right time to tell you, but it never felt like the right time. When things were going poorly, I felt like I didn’t want to add to the chaos. And when things were going well, I didn’t want to ruin it. I just never felt like there was a right time. And now, you found out the only way I didn’t want—finding out yourself.” I shake my head and stare at my lap.
He tips my chin up with a delicate finger, making me meet his eyes. “I get it,” he says before giving me a short kiss. He pulls back with sincere eyes.
“I could take another one of those.” Watching him smirk makes me giggle a little, and I draw in a sharp breath when he quickly kisses me again, catching me off guard. He’s just as eager as I am.
The kiss deepens and I lower myself onto the cushion of the couch while Dallas hovers over me. He slips a hand under my shirt, tracing the underwire of my bra with his thumb. It makes the butterflies in my stomach flutter. He trails my jaw with kisses before placing a soft kiss just behind my ear. Something about the way he does that always makes me crazy.
I push my head back, chin high, as he kisses down my neck and along my collarbone. Just as he’s about to slip his hand under my bra, Logan’s door opens.
“Hey, have you seen—woah, sorry. I’ll disappear again.” His door clicks shut quickly, leaving us alone again.
Dallas chuckles, resting his forehead on my chest. “Maybe we should move to the bedroom?” He sits back on his heels, offering me a hand.
“Probably for the best.” I laugh, too, imagining the look on Logan’s face when he realized what he was walking into. I take his hand, and he starts leading me down the hall.
He looks over his shoulder, pausing in front of my closed bedroom door. “Yours or mine?”
I think for a second. “Yours. I’ve seen enough of my four walls for a while.”
He nods, leading me to the end of the hall. He flips the light on as we walk in, but I flip it off behind him. A low laugh tells me all I need to know as I feel his toned arms wrap around me.
***
T he next day, Dallas and Logan head out for an early morning gym session and then practice. I’ve got too much work to get done for Dr. Kraus. I haven’t talked to him about what happened and he hasn’t asked. Our emails have remained purely professional.
Around one, a knock on the door pulls me from my work. But when I look out the peephole, no one is there. A package maybe? I crack the door open to find a note on the ground. Package left at front door for 14B.
That’s weird. These notes usually get left in our mailbox with a key for a lock box. Maybe it’s a new delivery person. I don’t remember ordering anything, but maybe one of the boys did. I don’t want it getting stolen, so I grab my keys and slip on some shoes before heading out the door. Down at the front door, an envelope sits on the front steps labeled “14B.”
I look around, hoping to see who might have delivered it, but I don’t see the mail truck anywhere. My heart beats a little faster at the same time a pit forms in my stomach. Something about this feels off. I pick it up and turn to head back inside. I’m not standing out here any longer than I have to.
“Nope!” a voice yells from somewhere in the distance.
I freeze. My feet won’t move. That voice. It makes the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I know that voice. It’s ingrained in my mind. Twisted around every nerve. I’ll never forget the hiss that laces every word he speaks.
“No way. Turn around. I want to see that beautiful face of yours when you open it.” A few footsteps sound before they stop not too far behind me.
I hesitate a moment before turning slowly. Listening to him might be the only way I get out of this smoothly, if at all. When I finish a slow 180, Sam stands a few car lengths ahead of me, leaning against my bike, arms folded across his chest. His wry smile makes my stomach churn.
“There she is.” Somehow, his smile grows even more wicked. “I’ve missed you, babydoll.”
I remain silent, hoping it will keep this whole situation a little calmer. I’ve never had much luck responding to him, especially when he’s already upset.
“Go on. Open it.” He pushes off my bike and takes a step closer.
I hesitate again but ultimately decide to listen to his command. It’s not sealed, just tucked. I don’t know what I expect to be in this envelope, but I’m a bit surprised as I pull out a handful of pictures. I look up at him, trying to keep my face neutral, trying to keep my fear from showing. But it’s too prominent to fake the pounding of my heart, the blood coursing through me at such high rates of speed, surely draining from my face.
The pictures are not good quality. Some of them are blurry, and most of them are from a distance.
Me, walking through campus.
Me and Meredith in the library.
Dallas at practice.
Me, putting gas into my bike.
Dallas bartending.
Me and Meredith sitting in the bleachers.
Me, riding on the back of Dallas’s bike.
I look up after getting back to the beginning of the stack to see Sam has taken a few more steps toward me. Far too close for comfort.
“What ... what are these?” I ask, voice shakier than I want it to be.
“What do you mean what are those? They’re pictures of you, babydoll.”
My blood boils at the nickname. “Don’t. Don’t call me that.”
“But you love it when I call you that.”
I shake my head, jaw clenched tightly. “What do you want, Sam?”
He laughs. “We’re going home.” He extends his hand, palm up.
“You expect me to just go with you? After everything? I’m finally happy, Sam. I’m not leaving.” I place my hands on my hips attempting to appear bigger though I’m not sure it’s working. The only thing I might have going for me at this point is that I’m standing on the top step.
“Happy? You’re happy now?” He lets out a breathy laugh. “This Dallas guy won't make you happy.” He takes a few more steps toward me. “You see this? See what he did to me?” He points to his face.
I notice a dull bruise on his cheek and one above his opposite brow.
“Dallas did that?” My mind flashes back to seeing his red bruised knuckles. When? How did he find Sam? I can’t tell if I’m angry that he didn’t tell me and went after him or sad that he felt the need to.
Both. I feel both.
I clench my fists, forcing the emotions into my hands rather than my face.
“Oh, yeah. Do you see who you’re living with? He’s a monster, Abby. You should be worried he’ll come after you next.” He smiles as if hypocrisy isn’t dripping off those words, oozing from his every pore.
I shake my head. “I’m not going anywhere. Especially with you.” I take a small step backward. If I can get close enough to the door to get it unlocked and get in before he reaches me, I might be safe. But I don’t know how I’m going to get that damn key in the door quick enough. I’m not even sure how he got into the building in the first place. I twist the key in my palm, working it into the correct position for how I’m standing.
“Oh, you are.” His voice is stern, hard.
He steps forward again as I take a step back, heel hitting the door. I fumble with my keys before dropping them on the ground. Fuck. I take a look at where Sam is and decide I might have enough time to grab them. But as soon as I bend down, a hand latches onto my hair.
Pain sears through my scalp as I’m ripped backward down the steps. I scramble to get my footing, but Sam is moving too fast. My heels scrape on the concrete as they bounce down each step. My flip-flops pop off my feet, settling at the bottom of the short staircase.
“Sam, stop, please!” I beg. He doesn’t respond. He keeps dragging me backward toward the far corner of the building. There’s nothing back here except unkept trees and bushes. And his car that is still running, ready to leave at any moment.
He stops suddenly, dropping me just barely in view of the front door. Please let someone come out here. I brace myself just in time to keep my head from hitting the ground. When I turn toward him, Sam stands in front of his car. His face is set in stone with rage. A look I’m all too familiar with, but this time, somehow, it’s worse. I shuffle backward but stop in my tracks when Sam takes a large step toward me, now only a foot away.
“You’re not going anywhere unless it’s with me. So, what do you say? Ready to go home?”
When I don’t say anything, he takes another step forward.
“Wait!” I yell but my voice is quickly cut off by the back of his hand. The familiar sting makes my ears ring. His fingers wrap around my hand that instinctually gravitates to my face, as if holding the pain would make it feel any better. He pulls hard, forcing me toward him. I fall to my knees in front of him.
“Now this is a sight to see. It’s only taken how long for you to kneel before me?” He rolls his eyes. “If only you were doing it willingly. You have it so good with me. You don’t have to worry about having food on the table. You don’t have to live in those stupid dorms. You don’t even have to worry about work.” His arms flail wildly in front of him. I stay as still as possible as my knees start to ache from the asphalt. “I’ve taken care of everything for you. And you think you can throw that all away? For what? Living with a stranger? You think he cares about you?”
He shakes his head, takes a fist full of my hair, and pulls me to my feet, forcing me to stand on my toes. I hold onto his wrist with both hands, hoping if I pull down enough it’ll relieve some of the pain, but to no avail. I frantically search for my footing, but my toes don’t provide enough stability. Hot tears stream down my face. My heartbeat is painful in my chest. Can he hear it? He’s probably enjoying this. In fact, I know he’s enjoying this by the smirk glued to his face.
“I leave for two weeks, and you think you can go off creating a whole new life? Yeah, I don’t think so. What the fuck is your problem, Abby? Look at me!” he yells, shaking my head.
I squeeze my eyes shut at the outburst, trying to focus on keeping my hair attached to my head instead of focusing on the pain radiating down my body. I open my eyes but avoid his stare. He shakes his head. A corrupt smile contorts his features. “Sam, please let me go and we can talk,” I beg, scrambling to get my footing again as the fistful of hair tightens on my head.
“We’re past talking. You had your chance to talk for the past three weeks but instead, you left me high and dry. So, no. No more talking.” He takes his free hand and wraps it around my neck, squeezing hard as he lets go of my hair. I try to breathe, but his grip is blocking my windpipe. Trying to keep myself from panicking, I focus on the air I can get. “You’re an idiot. You know that? An absolute fucking idiot.”
He lets go of my neck and I suck in a sharp breath, coughing repeatedly until I feel like I’ve gotten enough air back into my system.
“You feel that?” he asks, gripping my jaw. “That’s what freedom feels like. Not this fantasy you’ve created without me.” He shoves me back and I land on my ass, bracing my fall with both hands. A sharp pain shoots through my palms as the gravel embeds itself in my skin. I wince but quickly compose myself. I blink away the tears in my eyes as the all-too-familiar fear starts to build again.
“Crying? Really? You must have assumed I’d find you.” He shakes his head again. “Come on. I’d really like it if you’d come home willingly, and we can sort this out.” He tips his head toward his car.
Like a gut punch, the knot in my stomach makes its way up to my throat. The tears threaten to fall as I realize he’s not going to back down. I shouldn’t have expected him to. And who knows what’ll happen then, in the privacy of those four walls. If he’s willing to do this in broad daylight, what will he do when we’re alone? I don’t want to find out. I don’t move, trying hard to anchor myself to the ground, willing invisible hooks to latch to the surface.
The tone of his voice sharpens, and he takes a step closer. “I said, let's go.” His mouth forms a straight line. Both hands are balled into stiff fists.
I look up at him, rubbing the gravel from my palms, and debate whether or not to listen to him while discreetly checking my surroundings. There’s only one way to run. It’s futile. He’d surely catch up to me before I made it anywhere worth running to. And it would only make things worse. I take a deep breath, wipe the tears from my eyes, and rise to my feet, forcing myself to stand as tall as possible though it does little to calm my nerves. “No,” I say, as assertive as I can manage, trying hard to keep my voice steady.
I caught him off guard. It’s been a long time since I’ve said that singular word to him. I’ve defied plenty, but I learned the hard way that that one word is the worst thing I can say. He blinks a few times and then steadies his stare as if trying to burn a hole through my head.
“Excuse me? What the fuck did you just say to me?” He takes a step closer, but I manage to take a few steps back to distance myself from his harsh tone.
Another deep breath. “I said no, Sam. We’re done. I meant what I said at the party, and I mean it now.” My legs threaten to give out from under me. My hands shake aggressively despite my best effort to keep them still at my sides. My breath quivers as I wait for his next move.
He stares at the ground and laughs, shaking his head slowly. He rubs his jaw, then the back of his neck as he raises his eyes to meet mine, which are now welling with tears again. I blink rapidly, trying to rid them of the saltiness. “Oh, Abby. You think you have any control in this? I control you. I own you. You still exist because I let you. Now get the fuck over here before I drag you home.”
As realization settles, it feels like a bat is hitting me over and over. He’s not going to give up. Ever. Talking this through with him is no use. He will always have a comeback. Freedom is a joke. The tears fall freely now. It’s no use trying to stop them. I can’t get away from him. It’s at this moment that I realize I’m absolutely screwed. I’m as good as dead. Why has no one called the cops yet? Why does no one seem to be home? How has no one seen what’s happening out here?
Sam steps closer. I turn to run in a last-ditch effort to save myself, but Sam’s hand wraps around my forearm. I dig my heels into the ground, trying to give myself some leverage. I hit his arm repeatedly in hopes he’d let go, but that only makes it worse. As I spin around again, a full fist hits my upper cheek. I stumble, but only as far as Sam’s grip will allow. His knee connects with my rib cage as he lets go of my arm and shoves me to the ground. A searing pain races through the back of my head before I feel it get warm. Suddenly, I’m nauseous and dizzy, and my vision wobbles. My ears ring, blocking out all other sounds.
Sam peers over me with a smile on his face. I see him talking, but I can’t hear the words coming from his mouth. I’m hurled backward another foot as he kicks my ribs again. He kneels, still talking, but everything’s muffled. A hand closes around my throat and a fist to my face follows. This one hits my lip. The metallic taste of blood coats my mouth. Another fist. This one to my cheek. All I can do is lie here. It’s no use fighting anymore. I’m not sure I could if I tried.
Sam whips his head around, eyes wide. He quickly disappears from my vision and is replaced by a head of brown hair. The brown eyes that look down at me are intense. Worry and anger lace his vision, at the same time a softness in them comforts me. Dallas.