"I'm not confused, Richard. I'm not having an episode. I'm seeing clearly for the first time in years." Her voice is quiet but firm. "You don't want a partner. You want someone you can control, someone who fits into your perfect life like an accessory."
Richard's expression hardens, the mask of concern cracking. "After everything I've done for you? I built my life around accommodating your... difficulties." The last word carries a weight of accusation. "I've protected you, supported you, guided you—"
"Controlled me," Lori interrupts. "Isolated me. Made me doubt myself."
Richard's jaw tightens. He glances at me, then back at Lori. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, more intimate, meant only for her.
"Do you really think anyone else will understand your issues like I do? Accept your limitations?" His eyes flick to me again. "Doyou think he would stay once he sees what you're really like? The mood swings, the irrational fears, the neediness?"
I feel Lori stiffen under my hand, the words landing like physical blows. But she doesn't crumple.
"Those were never my issues," she says. "They were your excuses."
"You're being childish," he says, dropping all pretense of warmth. "Don't make me escalate this."
The threat hangs in the air, vague but unmistakable.
I step forward then, not aggressively, not reaching for him, but positioning myself slightly beside Lori rather than behind her. I don't speak, don't make threats of my own. I simply stand there, solid and immovable.
Richard's gaze shifts to me, assessing. I can see him calculate the physical difference between us, the advantage his wealth and status might normally give him, the disadvantage of being on unfamiliar territory. I meet his stare calmly, letting him reach his own conclusions.
Around us, the town is waking up. Two more cars pass slowly, occupants watching with open curiosity. Small towns have their disadvantages, but in this moment, the public nature of the confrontation works in our favor.
Richard sees it too. He straightens his already-perfect posture, adjusts his coat, reclaiming his composure. "This isn't finished," he says, voice low and controlled. It's not a threat so much as a statement of fact.
Without waiting for a response, he turns and walks back to his car. He doesn't take the flowers. He doesn't look back. He simplyslides into the driver's seat with fluid grace, the car purring to life under his hand.
The Audi pulls away, tires cutting fresh tracks in the light snow covering the parking area.
The moment his car disappears from view, Lori's knees buckle. I catch her before she falls, supporting her weight easily.
"I did it," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "I actually stood up to him."
"You did," I agree, guiding her to a nearby stool. "You were incredible."
She leans against me, her body trembling with aftermath. I keep my arm around her shoulders, solid and steady, giving her something to anchor against as the adrenaline ebbs.
"He'll be back," she says after a moment, wiping her eyes. "He doesn't give up easily."
"Neither do you," I point out.
She looks up at me, surprise flickering across her tear-streaked face. Then, unexpectedly, she smiles.
"No," she agrees. "I guess I don't."
The garage is quiet again, save for the soft sound of Lori's steadying breaths and the distant hum of traffic. The bouquet of roses lies forgotten on the workbench, already beginning to wilt in the warm air of the garage.
I should be focusing on the day ahead—my shift at the station, the engine that needs maintenance, the routine of a normal workday. Instead, I find myself especially aware of the woman beside me, her shoulder pressed against my side, her breathing slowly synchronizing with mine.
"What happens now?" Lori asks quietly, as if reading my thoughts.
I look down at her and I find myself saying, "Whatever you want. But you don't have to figure it out alone."
For a moment, we just look at each other, something unspoken passing between us. Then she nods, a small gesture of acceptance and perhaps something more.
"Thank you," she says simply.
Chapter 5 – Lori
