5. - – Sarah
CHAPTER FIVE
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SARAH
I sit on the edge of the guest bed and stare at the carpet. The mattress dips under my weight, the quilted comforter bunching under my hands. What the hell was I thinking? Asking out a cop? The cop who saved my life? I’m an idiot.
My stomach twists. I don’t know if it was bravery or desperation or something in between.
I draw my knees up as far as I can manage and fold forward, stopping before the pain spikes.
The denim of my jeans scrapes against my palms. My ribs ache if I breathe too deeply. My neck throbs when I turn my head too fast. I flinch each time a door shuts too hard.
I’m a mess. God, I’m such a mess. Why would I think it was okay to dump all of my brokenness onto someone else? Someone… good.
And yet… when I saw Marcus, something in me settled. Just a little. Like my brain finally recognized safety.
I force myself to stand. The old wooden floor creaks as I cross to the bathroom mirror. My reflection in the mirror looks wrong—the bruises blooming along my collarbone, the dark smear along my jaw, the fading thumb-shaped purple stain on my arm.
They still haven’t healed fully. But I do a good job covering them up.
I swallow.
I touch the edge of the bruise on my shoulder and my vision hazes. Mitch appears, wild and furious, fingers tightening on my?—
I grip the sink until the panic passes. He’s not here. He’s not here anymore.
And yet the idea of being alone with a man—even a good one—makes my chest tighten.
A coffee date. That’s all it is.
I walk to the closet and pull out a soft cream sweater. It’s nothing fancy. I don’t want him to feel like I’m trying too hard. It’s just to tell him thank you. Nothing more.
“Coffee,” I whisper to myself. “Just coffee.”
As I lay my clothes on the bed, a small, hopeful light sparks in my chest, and my pulse flutters anyway.