His eyes flash. “I took what you owed.”
“I didn’t owe you that.”
“You owe me everything,” he hisses. “That house is mine. Your place is with me. You don’t get to just decide otherwise because you’re bored.”
I glance around the diner. No one is paying us any real attention. The noise continues like normal, a shield and a prison all at once.
“I’m not coming back,” I say.
Alex’s expression hardens. The charm drops away completely. “Yes, you are.”
Fear skitters down my spine. “You can’t make me.”
He leans in until his voice is a breath against my ear. “You think I won’t drag you out of here if I have to? Don’t test me, Wren.”
My heart slams against my ribs. I picture him grabbing my arm. Raising his voice. Turning this place into another battleground I have to survive.
I can’t let that happen.
“I need to finish my shift,” I say, because I need an excuse to move. To think. “Then we’ll talk.”
His eyes narrow. He’s weighing the lie. Finally he sits back. “You’ve got ten minutes.”
Ten minutes.
I nod and turn away before he can see the terror on my face. My legs carry me to the kitchen on autopilot. The air back here is hotter, thicker. Mae is at the stove, humming under her breath.
“You okay?” she asks without looking up.
I open my mouth and nothing comes out. The truth is a weight too big to lift in this moment. If I tell her, she’ll step in. She’ll protect me. And Alex will turn that protection into something ugly.
“I… I don’t feel good,” I manage. “Can I step out for a minute?”
Mae glances at me then, really looks. Her brow furrows. “Of course. Go on upstairs. Splash some water on your face.”
“Thank you,” I whisper.
I don’t go upstairs.
I slip out the back door into the cold. The air hits my lungs like a shock. My hands are already moving, reaching for the spare key I keep tucked in my apron pocket.
Ten minutes.
I run to my car. Gravel crunches under my shoes. Every step feels too loud, like Alex can hear me even through the walls of the diner.
The door creaks when I yank it open. I throw my apron onto the passenger seat and grab my backpack from the trunk. I keep it packed now. Essentials only. Clothes. Documents. The things I can’t afford to lose again.
My hands shake as I shove it into the backseat.
I don’t look at the diner. I can’t. If I see the warm windows and the paper hearts and the life I was starting to build, I might freeze.
I slide behind the wheel and turn the key. The engine coughs, then catches. Relief rushes through me so hard it almost hurts.
“I’m not going back,” I whisper.
I pull out of the lot and onto the road without signaling. My breath comes in short bursts. I keep expecting to see Alex in my mirror, bursting through the diner doors, chasing me down.
The town blurs past. I don’t have a plan. I just know I can’t stay. If I stay, he’ll corner me. He’ll talk and talk until my resolve crumbles and I’m standing in that house again, trapped in the life I fought so hard to escape.
