Chapter Seven
He Falls First
Olivia
There are voices you never forget.
They crawl under your skin and live in the cracks like black mold, waiting.It doesn’t matter how many miles you put between then and now, how many therapists or restraining orders or whispered promises ofyou’re safe nowyou stack like sandbags.
One word and you’re back there.
“Miss me, Livvy?”
The room tilts.I hate that fucking nickname.
The bed becomes the old beige couch.The ceiling turns into yellowed popcorn plaster.I’m twenty-five again, twisting my wedding ring around and around as he lectures me about how lucky I am.Lucky he puts up with me.Lucky he loves me enough to fix me.
Except now there’s another voice in the room.
A deeper one.Steady as a heartbeat.I’m here.Darren.
His hand is warm on my thigh, grounding me in the present when the past tries to rip me backward.I focus on that heat.That weight.The roughness of his palm.The faint callus that catches on my skin like reality’s little anchor.
“We need to talk about what you did to my house,” my ex repeats, his voice oily with satisfaction.
“I ...your house?”I echo, because echoing is easier than thinking.My hand tightens around the phone until the cheap plastic creaks.
“Don’t play dumb,” he snaps, temper flashing through the sugar.“You always do that.‘Oh, I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.’”He mimics my voice in a high, cruel falsetto.“Pathetic.”
Shame flares, automatic and conditioned.Darren’s fingers press more firmly into my leg.Not hurting but reminding.
I am present in the now.
I am here.
Not stuck back in my past.
The phone is lifted from my trembling hand and set to speaker phone.“Don’t talk to her like that,” Darren says calmly.
Not loud.Not posturing.Just ...fact.The silence on the other end is instant and electric.
