When You Blush (The Blackwells of Montana #4)

Prologue

HARPER

Two Years Ago

O ne time when we were in the kitchen, and he was getting water out of the fridge, he growled at me like he was a wolf and I was the bunny.

He literally stood there, glared at me as his water bottle filled, and growled. Not in a sexy way.

In a ridiculous, I almost laughed way.

He sleeps on the couch, mostly because he knows I hate that. He knows I hate the silent treatment, too.

And he hasn’t spoken to me in three weeks. Not a single word.

Why is he behaving this way? What stunt did I pull that was so egregious that it earned this behavior from the one person in the world who’s supposed to love me more than anyone else?

Because I picked up an extra shift at the hospital and couldn’t go with him to his buddy’s party earlier this month.

That’s all. I went to work.

I’m a nurse, and we were short-staffed, so I picked up a shift, and to punish me, my fiancé hasn’t spoken a word to me in almost a month and treats me like I’m the shit on his shoe.

Honestly, the silence has been great.

And his ignoring me has created the space I need to plan my exit strategy.

Because after three years of putting up with his mood swings, lectures, body shaming, and cheating on me with just about anyone with a heartbeat, I’m over it.

I’ve been over it for a while but didn’t have anywhere to go.

Okay, that’s not entirely true, and Ava, my best friend since we were twelve, would be appalled and likely slash my tires for even thinking that I couldn’t go to her. But her family has already done so much for me.

I can’t run to the Hendrix family every time life gets hard.

Now, if Nathan— not Nate. He hates nicknames.— can just hold on with his silent treatment for three more days, I can leave while he’s gone for a work trip this weekend, and it’ll all be over.

Am I a chickenshit for packing up and leaving when he’s none the wiser ?

No. I’m not. Because Nathan can be a violent asshole, and I don’t want to chance that this will be the first time he hits me and holds me hostage in our house.

Make that his house. Because when we chose and bought the pretty little bungalow just outside of Portland, he refused to put me on the mortgage.

It’s only in Nathan’s name, which works well for me.

I have no responsibilities here.

In three more days, I will fly out of Portland to Charlotte, where I’ve taken my first traveling nurse assignment.

A new life.

Freedom.

Anything but what I’ve been living.

I’m sitting on the couch with my laptop, looking at used car listings in Charlotte, when Nathan walks into the house, glares at me, and paces into the kitchen.

He often comes home on his lunch breaks.

I used to think it was because he wanted to hang out with me, but now I know it’s because he’s checking in on me.

He doesn’t trust me. Not because I’ve ever done anything to betray his trust—aside from planning my escape—but because Nathan himself isn’t trustworthy.

So he comes home every day on his lunch break to make sure I’m where I say I am.

I refuse to share my location on my phone.

He doesn’t say a word as he makes himself a sandwich, and I continue staring at my computer.

“We need to talk,” he says, startling me.

I don’t immediately look his way. My heart is thumping. Shit. He couldn’t have continued his tantrum for three more freaking days?

“Did you fucking hear me, dumbass?”

I scowl and look his way. “So talk.”

His blue eyes narrow on me in malice. “You’re such a piece of shit. You know that, right? You’re a mediocre nurse at best. No one besides me can even stand to be around you.”

His eyes move over my body in disgust.

“Christ, do you ever get off that couch?”

Fuck you.

Fuck you up the ass with no lube.

It’s amazing how kind and sweet and tender he is with me when we’re around other people, but when it’s just the two of us, the monster comes out to play.

And I can already see where this is going. He’s decided to move on to the lecture, torment, make-me-feel-smaller-than-a-snail part of his agenda. He does this often. Several times, he’s locked me in a bedroom and screamed at me for hours on end.

But not today.

Not ever again.

Slowly, I close the laptop and stand, pushing my feet into my shoes. Over the past week, I’ve packed most of my clothes and the few sentimental items I own, which isn’t much at all, and shipped them to Ava in our hometown of Silver Springs, Montana.

She’ll forward them to me when I need them.

There’s nothing here in this house that I can’t replace .

Including Nathan.

“What the fuck are you doing? I told you we need to talk, so sit your lazy ass down.”

Without a word, I walk to the front door and loop my handbag over my head and across my body. I still have my car because I’m not selling it to the buyer I found until Friday, so I grab my keys and open the front door.

“WHERE THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE GOING, HARPER?”

I stop and look back at him. Once upon a time, I thought he was so handsome. He’s tall with all that thick blond hair and bright blue eyes, and he has a body that most of us drool over.

But he’s fucking rotten on the inside.

“You don’t get to speak to me ever again.”

I push out of the house and walk to my car, get inside, and start the engine.

He doesn’t follow me.

He’s probably still standing there with his mouth hanging open.

And finally, for the first time in three years, I’m free of him.

It feels amazing.

With shaky hands, I drive to a nice hotel closer to the airport, and when I approach the desk, the receptionist smiles.

“Good morning. How can I help you?”

I clear my throat. “I just left my piece-of-shit fiancé, and I need a room for two nights, please.”

The woman—Monica, according to her name tag— tilts her head to the side, her smile gone, looking at me with sharp eyes. “Are you okay, honey?”

“I’m way better than I was thirty minutes ago.”

She nods, types on her keyboard, then offers me a half smile. “One presidential suite for the basic room rate coming up. I’ll send up some champagne in thirty.”

I blink at her, and for the first time in a long time, I feel like crying.

The kindness of this stranger is what finally breaks me?

Pressing my lips together, I take my credit card and driver’s license back from her and nod.

“Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure. Congratulations, Miss Newman.”