Kelly reaches out and starts rubbing circles on my back.
“Let it out.”
“Someone trying to break in isn’t your fault,” Sloane tells me.
“But it is. If I’d never gotten tied up with him, none of this would be happening.”
Sloane tilts her head toward my kids. “True, but then you wouldn’t have them.”
“They wouldn’t be in danger and having to live under a fake identity,” I throw back.
“Hey, I know things seem really bleak right now, but the storm will pass. The guys are handling it,” Kelly tells me.
“That’s the thing. They shouldn’t have to. This is my mess. I should be the one cleaning it up.” I take a shuddering breath, trying to work up the courage to say what’s been running through my mind.
“What is it?” Sloane asks, reading me like a book.
“D-do you think I should give them up? If I left them and went back to him, they would be safe. He never cared about them, so if I left them with someone and went back, he would stop looking. They wouldn’t be in danger.” I voice the same thing I once thought before.
Sloane starts shaking her head before I even finish. “Absolutely fucking not. No way in hell are you going back to that dickhead.”
“What Sloane is trying to say is, as noble as the thought is, it wouldn’t work. Men like your ex never quit. Yeah, it’s a nice thought in theory, but you have to remember, Jane, those two babies of yours are his leverage to get you to obey him. Withoutthem, you have no reason to do what he wants. He needs them to control you,” Kelly says.
“Your best bet is to let the guys handle this. All they need is a name and some time,” Sloane adds.
“I don’t want them to get hurt,” I say, shaking my head.
Sloane chuckles. “Babe, it’s cute that you think your ex, who probably is some white-collar dude, could get the drop on a group of one-percenters who are out for blood. He wouldn’t see them coming.”
“She’s not wrong,” Kelly muses.
“Look, if you don’t want to tell them, tell us. Give us everything you know so we can tell them so they can end this once and for all.” Sloane reaches out and grabs my hand. “Trust us. Lean on us, Jane. I can promise you, none of us will let you down.”
“His name is Evan Anderson. He’s from Portland, Oregon, and works for his parents’ tech company.” Just those few sentences feel like a weight lifted off my shoulders.
“Good, keep going,” Sloane says as she pulls out her phone to take notes.
“How did you meet?” Kelly asks.
“We went to high school together.”
Kelly nods. “High school sweethearts?”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“When did you get married?” Sloane asks.
“A week after graduation and six months after I turned eighteen. We did it in his parents’ backyard.”
With each question I answer, I feel lighter and lighter. My shame starts to disappear, and I realize I’m not the one to blame.
Evan met me when I was young and impressionable. I didn’t know better. I didn’t know what I deserved. Sure, I knew it was wrong, but that’s it.
Now, as an adult with a fully developed frontal lobe and some time away from him, I realize it for what it was.
Abuse.
Not just physical, but mental. He was a narcissist who pulled me into his web.
