12. Chapter 12
Chapter 12
Dallas
I ’m startled awake by my phone vibrating on my nightstand. I squint into the dimly lit room. It’s still early. Only a dull stream of light seeps through the crack in the blackout curtains. Abby lies curled around my arm, still sleeping soundly. The sight of her like this, clinging to me so tightly, makes my heart melt. The vibration stops, and I peer at the caller ID. My mom. The time is barely past five. She never calls this early.
As much as I’d like to stay like this forever, I pry my arm out of Abby’s grasp. She turns but remains asleep. I’m calling my mom back almost before I get my shorts on and leave the room. It starts ringing as my bedroom door clicks shut, far too loud for how quiet the apartment is.
She picks up on the first ring. “Dallas, honey, I need to tell you something, and then we need to figure out how to tell Abby.”
I can already feel my heart racing, the heat in my veins rising. I keep my voice low and steady despite the urgency in her voice. “Tell me what, Mom?”
“They found Sam, Dallas. He came back.”
My grip on my phone tightens so hard I think I might break it. Deep breaths. “He better be in jail.” There’s a fierce bite to my words.
“Right now, yes. He will spend a few days booked until he meets bail, but then he’ll be released.”
“They’re letting him out? After everything he’s done?” My voice is getting louder, angrier.
“Likely, yes. He’ll meet with a judge to set bail, and if he can pay, they’ll let him out. That’s just how the system works, unfortunately.”
“The system is a fucking joke,” I snap, and then immediately regret the words. “Sorry. Not the whole thing. Just … parts of it.”
“I know, honey. I know.”
I run a hand through my hair and pause at the back of my neck. “So, now what?”
“Like I said. I wanted to talk to you first and see if you knew the best way to tell Abby. I know she’s in a tough spot.”
I sigh, resting my elbows on the kitchen island. My brain is still trying to wake up. This information was a jolt to the system. “Honestly, there is no good way to tell her. But she’s stronger than people give her credit for.”
“I know. No one survives something like that and comes out weak.” I hear her take a deep breath, the sudden burst of air rumbling through the phone speakers.
“I’ll tell her. I’ll figure it out. I think it’ll be better coming from me anyway.” I squeeze my eyes shut at the thought and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Okay. I’ll keep in touch if I learn more. But for now, there’s not much we can do until the first court date.”
I nod even though she can’t see me. “All right. Love you. Bye.”
I set my phone down a little too hard, the thud echoing in the quiet and run my hands down my face. It can never be easy, can it? Now, to tell Abby. But how? She’ll handle it. I know she will. But watching her break every time something new comes up kills me. And there’s not much I can do to help, other than be there for her. I wish I could do more, but everything else I want to do would probably send me to jail. And that certainly won’t help anything. So, for now, I’ll keep my fists firm at my sides instead of flesh meeting flesh like I so badly want to.
There’s no way I’ll be able to fall asleep again, so I settle into the couch for a couple of hours until Logan wanders out, scratching his head.
He stretches and joins me. “You’re up early.”
“Yeah. My mom called with some … news.” He raises a brow. “Sam’s been arrested.”
Logan sits up from where he was slouching on the couch “They found him?”
“I guess. I didn’t ask for specifics. All I know is he’ll be booked for a few days, but I have no doubt he’ll be able to make bail.”
“Shit.” He pauses, then looks toward my room. “Does Abby know?”
I shake my head and look at the ground. “She hasn’t woken up yet. But I think it’s time to face the music. Shit’s going to get even more real.” I sigh. “She’ll get through it. But I hate seeing her panic like that. I can already picture it.” The images form in my head far easier than I want. It’s an effort to push them down when I know they’ll be a reality soon.
His expression softens. There isn’t really anything more to say. We both know the next few weeks are going to be tough. We know it’s going to be a long road. But then I realize something, and it’s not something I’ve thought much about until now. And I’m kicking myself for it.
“You know you don’t have to be involved in this, right?” Other than being in it physically since we live together, I don’t think I’ve ever given him permission to step aside. Not that he needs it from me, but I don’t want him to feel stuck in this.
He cocks his head and looks at me, brows drawn together. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you don’t have to sit through this so closely if you don’t want to. You can opt-out and only be a part of what you want to be a part of. I realize I brought you into this without asking and I never gave you an out. So, here’s your out if you want it.” I wait for his response, unsure of what direction he’s going to take. I know he was struggling with all of it when he returned that first weekend, and I’m not sure where his head is at while things simultaneously get worse and better.
He sits up straighter and places both hands on his knees. “Dal, I’m not leaving or opting out. Sure, this isn’t what I thought the summer after graduating would be like, but I won't drop you or Abby like that.” He pauses, but I can tell he’s not done. With a deep breath, he says, “I like Abby. And I like you with her. I like this version of you. You were a mess after Cole, and through all your parent’s stuff, but somehow, she grounds you more than even baseball or riding does. I don’t know how she does it, but I’ll forever be grateful for her.”
I can’t help the cheesy smile that spreads across my face. I’ve not thought about that, but I think he’s right. She does ground me in a way I’ve never experienced before. All it takes is one look from her, and everything eases.
“I’m not going anywhere, dude.” With that, Logan stands up and pulls me into a hug. “All I ask,” he says when he pulls away, “is that you two warn me next time you’re going to grope each other on the couch.” He pats me on the back and walks away, laughing.
It’s another hour before Abby wakes up, and I still haven’t figured out the right words. She strolls out of the bedroom, still in her pajamas, and into the bathroom. After what feels like hours, she reappears and finds herself some food. How do I even bring this up? The words have been circulating in my head for hours, and I still can’t seem to form them into a coherent sentence even though it only takes all of three words to say it.
The worst part is, she seems to be in a fantastic mood this morning. She’s bouncing around the apartment like she just won the lottery and can’t hold back the excitement. Even Logan has noticed and shoots me a questioning yet very leery eye.
She sets herself up at the kitchen table, opens her laptop, opens her notebook, clicks her pen into place, and is entrenched in her writing so quickly that I almost miss the hint of worry in her eye.
The kitchen chair scrapes against the floor as I pull it out to sit next to her. She looks up briefly from her work and watches me sit before returning her gaze to her computer. Her fingers move rapidly over the keys as her eyes shift back and forth from the computer to her notebook.
I hesitate to say anything based on how invested she already is in her work. “How goes the writing?” I ask, testing the waters.
She doesn’t look up from her work this time. “I’m getting there. I’ve only got a couple more days to finish it. It needs to be submitted by midnight the night before the ceremony.” She scribbles something onto a sticky note and sticks it to the side of her laptop screen.
“The way you’ve been working, I think you’ll finish in no time.”
“Have you ever edited a paper in your entire college experience?” she asks, folding her hands on the table and staring at me.
I laugh and lean against the back of my chair. “Wow. Shot point blank.” She goes back to her writing with a smug grin, but I can’t keep pretending like everything is fine. It’ll eat at me until I blurt it out in the most unhelpful way possible. “Abby?”
She holds up a finger. “One second. Let me finish this paragraph.” So, I wait. And wait. Finally, she sets her pen down and sits back. “Okay. Sorry, that one was giving me a hard time.” She smiles. “What’s up?”
Here goes nothing. I take a deep breath and shift on the uncomfortable wooden chair. “I have to tell you something, and I know it’s not going to sit well.”
Her entire expression falters for a split second before she tries to regain her composure. “Whatever it is, just tell me. Don’t dance around it. I’m tired of people sidestepping everything they say to me.”
I nod, understanding exactly what she means. I’ve done that, sidestepped the truth with her. I know she’s strong. I know she can handle the truth. I just hate seeing her break down in front of me, unsure if she’ll fully recover.
“Sam’s back,” I say, studying her face for any hint of that collapse I’ve seen so many times.
My suspicions are confirmed when I see the signs. She’s panicking. Exactly like I expected her to. The shaking, the fingers digging into her palms, the growing tears. I’ve seen it so many times you’d think I’d be used to it by now, but it never gets any easier.
Because my heart falters when hers does.
Her face falls into her hands and I stand, pulling her with me. Her feet threaten to give out from under her, so I carefully lead her to the couch and pull her back into that tight hug. I mouth to Logan to get a glass of water, and he’s there and back in seconds. I know she won't drink it right now, but I want the option here for when she calms down.
Minutes pass and Abby is still deep in the anxiety. I need to figure out a way to calm her down, snap her out of the thoughts no doubt spiraling in her mind. I look around the room before a memory of some of Rose’s panic attacks surfaces in my head. Think. What was her go-to remedy?
“Ice. Get me some ice,” I say. Logan heads to the kitchen a little confused but follows orders and returns with a bowl. “Abby?” She sniffles a few times but looks up, tears coating her face. She’s still shaking aggressively. “Hold this.”
She takes an ice cube in each hand and squeezes.
“That’s it. Hold them until just before they hurt and then drop them back into the bowl. Don’t worry about the dripping water.”
She holds on for longer than I expect her to, but I’m in no position to stop her from trying this trick. And to my delight, it works. She drops them in the bowl again, wipes her hands on my shorts, and blows out a long breath. She splays her hands wide and then clenches them tight, repeating the motion until she finally looks up at me. I cup her face with both hands and wipe the tears with my thumbs. She grips my wrists, the palms of her hands still freezing cold, and she holds my gaze.
“I’m right here. You’re not going anywhere,” I reassure. She nods, and I bring her forehead to my lips. “Water?”
She nods again. She almost smiles after that first sip of water, but it fades away quickly.
Logan and I watch her finish the glass, and when she sets it down, she speaks in almost a whisper. “Where?”
It takes me a second to understand what she means. “Jail. For now.”
Her face scrunches tightly together. I think she processes her next question before she asks it because she drops her gaze again. It’s softer this time as she takes it all in. “So, now what?”
We’ve all been asking the same question this morning. “Nothing, really. It’s just a waiting game at this point. See what happens, as shitty as that sounds. But the ball’s kind of in his court right now.”
Logan pipes up this time, and we both turn, a little surprised. “Can I make a suggestion?” Abby just keeps staring at him, but I nod for him to continue. “He’ll be in jail for, what,” he checks his watch, “like three more days, right?”
Abby looks at me for the answer.
“Right,” I confirm. I’m still confused.
“So, enjoy those three days. He’s literally locked up. You’re completely free of him for three days. Do something with that time.”
He’s right. We should, or Abby should at least. It’s good timing for the awards ceremony. It’ll give her some time to tune everything out and focus on what’s important to her. It’ll give everyone a reprieve.
Abby stares at the floor, looking more than reluctant to take Logan up on his suggestion. Something clicks, though, because she takes a deep breath, stands up, and says, “Yeah, you know what? Fuck him.” And then she stalks back to her spot at the kitchen table to keep writing.
Logan and I look at each other with stunned expressions and I force my mouth shut after it falls open. I’m cautious with my next actions, but it’s now or never I suppose. Abby doesn’t quite look like she’s ready to disregard the last ten minutes. If she truly wants to ignore it for the next three days, then I won’t stand in her way, but I won't ignore the fact that that was one of the worst panic attacks I’ve seen her have.
I look over the back of the couch toward Abby. “Can we talk about this first?”
She doesn’t look up from her work. “What is there to talk about?”
I blink, a bit dumbfounded at her rebuttal. I move to her side, take her hand, and walk her back to my room.
“What?” she asks, once the door is shut.
“What do you mean what ? You just had a panic attack and now you're suddenly fine and ready to just toss it all out the window? You can’t have just flipped a switch that quickly after something like that.” My voice is louder than I intended, maybe a little too condescending.
“Don’t patronize me.”
Something in me snaps. “I’m not patronizing you. I’m trying to understand,” I almost yell. As soon as the words leave my mouth, I wish I could draw them back in, swallow them, and never speak again.
Abby takes a step backward, her back meeting the door. Her face screws up tightly.
I realize I was talking wildly with my arms, hands flailing everywhere, so I stuff them into my pockets to keep them at bay. I draw my brows together, concern coursing through me. How do I give her the support she needs if she’s scared of me? I lift a hand to cup her cheek, but she quickly turns away, every part of her seeming to brace for impact. I drop my hand, trying to remind myself she’s reacting like this because that’s all she’s known for the past year.
“I’m sorry,” I start, “I …” but I can’t finish my thought.
The look on her face when she finally looks back tears me apart. It’s not fear on her face. It’s pure anxiety, so heavy that it could pull me under, too. But I can’t let it. She deserves some semblance of normalcy in her life. I want to be her normal, her happy, her love. I want to be that for her. But I don’t know if, after what Sam did to her, she’ll ever fully trust anyone ever again, let alone love anyone again.
Rage begins to boil, coursing through my veins at a rapid rate. Mostly at myself for how I just reacted. And then there’s more underneath for Sam, who deserves to feel the pain he caused Abby. I swear to God, the next time I see that fucker, he’s getting knocked on his ass so fast he’s not going to know what day it is. Every piece of him that touched her will break.
Through my muddled thoughts, I hear Abby take a deep breath. Her gaze is still fixed on some distant spot on the floor.
“Sorry,” she says, but that only makes my blood boil more. The fact that she feels the need to apologize for flinching, it doesn’t make sense in my mind. That’s what Sam has done to her. He’s buried himself into the deepest crevasses of her mind, still holding strong onto those automatic reactions and responses.
“Please don’t apologize, Abby. I’m the one who should be apologizing profusely. I didn’t mean to raise my voice. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just … I care about you too much to ignore what I know is simmering under the surface of that happy face you put on for show.”
She looks up, finally meeting my eyes. And it’s all there. Exactly what I just described. But there’s no happy face hiding it this time. It’s just … her. Pure and authentic. I haven’t dared move closer, wanting to give her whatever space she needs after my outburst, but she finally moves forward and wraps her arms around my torso.
I wrap my arms around her shoulders and place a prolonged kiss on top of her head, hoping to relax her mind and mine. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to be sorry for your reflexes. I know it may take some time for you to trust me—all of me—and that’s okay. But I want you to know that I’ll always be here for you. I’ll never hurt you. This,” I pull away just enough to point between us, “isn’t just a temporary thing for me. When I met you, I didn’t realize how quickly I’d fall for you, but I did, and I don’t regret that one bit. You’re safe here. You’re safe with me.”
I feel a tear hit my arm, but it’s not mine. Abby wipes her cheek with her sleeve, trying to dry the river that flows from her eyes. She starts trembling and I can tell she’s trying to hide it. I pull her into a hug again. She grips the back of my shirt like it’s the only thing holding her together. I’ll keep her heart from crumbling more than it has. I’ll replace the million tiny pieces that broke with pieces from mine. We’ll blend our pieces to create the greatest damn love story anyone’s ever heard of.
After a few minutes, her sobbing subsides, the trembling slows, and the rapid breathing grows shallow. She takes a long deep breath before pulling away from me. The place she just left feels empty without her, the cool air taking over the warmth from her body. Lifting her chin with my thumb, she stares into my eyes, meeting my gaze. I look between hers, hoping for some sort of peace. I can see it, but it’s distant.
I take a breath as I think about what to say to her. I’ve been doing the only thing I know how. Trying to fix things. But I know I can’t fix everything. Some things are broken beyond repair. But we can create something new.
Abby whispers, “One request.” I nod, waiting for her to keep going. “No Sam talk for three days. I just need to … exist.”
I sigh. “Okay. Can we have one rule?”
“One rule,” she agrees.
“No ignoring your feelings. I don’t want you to push them down for three days only for them to burst at the seams on day four. It’s not healthy. You go to someone if you need to talk, even if it’s not me. You’ve got Logan, Meredith, Rose, hell I don’t even care if you go to Connor or Dante. But you have to talk to someone if you think you’re going to explode.”
She chews the inside of her cheek but nods. “Deal.”