Derrek leaned against an industrialcooktop, surrounded by smooth steel and shiny accessories. His crisp whitechef’s coat had no wrinkles, his name and restaurant name perfectly embroideredover the right breast. His eyes looked kind in the picture, creasing in thecorners and glittering with pride. And his face. His face that was so goodlooking it almost hurt.
Unlike Killian, who screamed dangerand mayhem and broken rules, Derrek was all-American- blonde, blue-eyed withclean-cut, chiseled features. After I’d moved in with him and things had turnedfor the worse, I used to wonder if his success had more to do with his appearancethan his skill in the kitchen. He was a good chef, but he wasn’t phenomenal.
But it wasn’t just his looks andmediocre talent that propelled his career skyward. Even I could admit that theman had charisma. He was charming, alluring, he made everyone feel comfortableand cared about. Nobody could resist him.
Especially not me.
Not until I’d learned my lesson thehard way.
Now he’d managed national acclaim. Iwasn’t surprised. Disappointed in the American people as a whole, but notsurprised.
My stomach churned, and chillscrawled over my body, making me paranoid. My fear was silly and unfounded. Itwas just a picture. He couldn’t see me. He didn’t know I’d found this articleor bothered to read it.
He didn’t know anything about meanymore.
I sucked in a deep breath andclenched my hands into tight fists to keep them from shaking. I didn’t like tothink about him anymore, or the time I spent with him. But once in a while,when I was afraid of the future or disappointed with how little I had done withmy life so far, I allowed myself to imagine what my life would have been likeif I’d have stayed with him.
Would he have proposed by now?
Would he have made me quit my job bynow?
Would he have hospitalized me bynow?
Would he have killed me by now?
A sour feeling of dread snakedthrough my stomach, threatening to make me toss up my breakfast, followed by aflash of heat and sweat. God, I was a mess when it came to Derrek. One partrelief that I wasn’t still with him. One part embarrassment that I’d become avictim, that I’d let myself get sucked into an abusive relationship to beginwith. One part hate—pure, raw, violent hate. And one part fear. Fear that hewould find me again. Fear that he would suck me back in, remind me that I wasnothing without him, that I would never be anything without him. Fear that hewouldn’t give me the choice. That he would demand my obedience.
And I would give it to him.
Again.
I felt like an addict in the worstway. And it was the sick addiction that scared me the most. Because I knew whatI wanted and he wasn’t it. I knew how to be happy again, and he wasn’t the way.I knew how to stay healthy and go after my dreams and be my own, independentwoman. And yet the threat of what he could do to me, how he could destroy everysingle thing, was very real.
And knowing that still didn’t takeaway the fear. Because I didn’t trust that there wasn’t some way he couldconvince me to go back to him.
He had stripped me of self-worth andconfidence and everything I needed to be me. He’d turned me into a submissive,weak, shell of a woman. He’d broken me.
What if he did it again?
What if he didn’tturnme weak? What if I’dalwaysbeenweak?
And he had simply been stronger?
When Leanne came back at the end ofmy dad’s treatment, I still clutched the Living section in my sweaty hands. Shewoke Dad and unhooked him. His sleepy gaze swept over the paper. I didn’t knowif he recognized Derrek or not, but he didn’t comment on him.
He wrapped his heavy arm around myshoulder, and we walked to the car. It wasn’t until we were buckled and headedback home that he reached over from the passenger’s seat and settled his warmhand on my still-chilled shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Vera. No matter what Isaid earlier, you should know that I’m proud of the woman you’ve become and allthat you’ve accomplished. I only worry because it’s my job.”
I gave him a watery smile, unable tospeak past the lump in my throat.
“And you don’t need him,” he wenton, surprising the hell out of me. “I know you’ve kept what happened a secretbecause you think you’re protecting me, but I see it, Vera. I see that he hurtyou badly. Hell, I had to deal with him after you left, calling the housetwenty times a day. I know that he damaged you somehow and I hate him for it.I’d like to kill him for it. But I know I don’t need to. You’re stronger thanthat boy. And you deserve better. You deserve the best. I’ve never known anyonemore deserving than you, baby girl.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I hiccupped on a mushysob.
He squeezed my shoulder, his largehand engulfing me, making me feel small, protected. “You’ll get your picture inthe paper soon enough. You just watch. He’ll be reading about you soon enough.”
I nodded, accepting his comfortwithout explaining that recognition was the last thing I wanted. Well, at leastnow, after I read Derrek’s feature.
He’d inadvertently put things intoperspective for me. I wasn’t trying to make national or even statewide news. Ineeded to stay under the radar, do my thing quietly, inconspicuously andwithout drawing attention to myself.
