“Put it down and get out.”
“Probably not even real,” he mutters and in the background I hear the tinkle of something being dropped, followed by what sounds like his slimy fingers lacing through my jewelry box.
I know it’s with me—it’s always with me—but I slip my hand into the side pocket of my duffle bag and scrabble frantically for it.
My grandmother’s ring. The dark green, emerald-cut stone sitting over a gold diamond band. I sigh with relief.
Glancing down the hall, I whisper into the phone sharply. “Take that worthless piece of junk and don’t touch anything that doesn’t belong to you.”
Eric would have had to propose for that diamond ring to mean anything to me. But he didn’t. The ring was only meant to control me. To make me believe he was mine—when in reality, it was a marker. A way to stake his claim for when I was singing at the local lounges and bars downtown while we were together.
How could I have been so blind? I fell for his charm, his confidence. But underneath the polished law-school grad with big plans for our future .?.?. was someone who hated when I laughed too loud, dressed too revealing, or spent time with anyone who wasn’t him.
He scoffs. “Didn’t hear you say that when that guy at the bar had his hands on you.”
I growl. “Eric, I swear—”
“Where are you? Come home, let’s talk this out.”
“We don’t havea home. I’m finishing out the lease like we agreed. Now get out before I call my good friend Larry from down the hall—you know, the ex-MMA fighter? He’ll haul your scrawny ass out of there before you can blink twice.”
He waits a beat. That same tight silence that tells me he’s waiting for me to stop rambling the way I do so he can be serious for a moment. “Something’s come up. I need my security deposit back for this place. You, uhh .?.?. you’re gonna need to move out.”
“What? How much was the security?” I don’t know why I ask. I know I can’t give it to him just to hold off moving out until the end of the year.
“Double the rent.”
I release a breath. “Fine. I’ve got a place lined up anyway,” I lie. My plans to move in with Rose completely fell through when she decided to stay in Colorado—for school .?.?. and for the hot cowboy who wouldn’t back down until she gave him another chance.
Heck, I don’t blame her. She doesn’t have to live by my self-imposed rule to never date again. She still believes in happily ever afters.
I’ve fallen in love enough times to know that’s just not how the world works.
“I can help you pack,” he says with a hopeful tone. Like I’d ever willingly let that man near me again.
“Don’t make me get a restraining order against you, Eric. Get out of my apartment.”
“Restraining order? Come on, Willow, it’s not that serious.”
I clench my teeth. Resisting the urge to confront him for manhandling me—and not in any fun, kinky way—at my job last month, when a friendly, albeit tipsy bar patron was giving me a tip.
Eric never got physical before, but once was enough to drive me to sign up for these classes. In a few years, I’ll be able to support myself financially. And, thanks to Travis, I can now defend myself in any physical situation too.
“I was drunk.”
“I don’t care. I just want you out, Eric. Now.”
He sighs and there’s a quiet beat before he says, “You can stay until the end of the week.”
“Four days? You need to give the building more notice than that,” I argue. He’s the lawyer. He should know.
“Did that a few weeks ago. That’s what I came by the bar to tell you that night.”
“So instead of telling me I need to move out, you decided to restrain and threaten me instead?” I seethe. If it were possible, I despise him even more.
His tone softens. “It was a misunderstanding. You know I don’t like seeing you with other men.”
“I could have been fucking him over that piano, and it wouldn’t have been your concern, Eric,” I hiss, feeling my blood pressure rising.
