Ben rolls his eyes at Elijah as if to say,Women, amirite?“Graham called me. Said you were stuck in this podunk town and needed to be rescued.”
Sarah feels like she’s going to throw up. Caleb was right. She should’ve never called Graham.
“Can I take your coat?” Elijah says.
She wants to say,No, he’s not stayingbut it’s too late. Ben sheds his coat and hands it to Elijah, his eyes never leaving her. He hands over his scarf as well, revealing a rust-stained patch of gauze on his neck, in the spot where her knife had sliced.
“I’ve already introduced myself to your host,” Ben says. “Is there somewhere Sarah and I can talk, Elijah?”
She doesn’t like the way he says Elijah’s name, like he’s already best buddies with him. Elijah’s hers.
“You can use the parlor. Would you like a coffee?” Elijah asks.
“Sure. Milk and sugar.”
“Sarah?”
“No, thank you.”
She watches helplessly as Elijah’s back retreats into the dining room. Ben grasps her upper arm and steers her into the parlor. “Holy shit. I’m at Oma’s house,” he says.
He sits on the sofa and pats the seat beside him, looking up expectantly as if she’s a dog. She doesn’t even want to be in the same house as him, but her body moves on autopilot. It’s best to do what he wants. The easiest way to deal with him. She sets her face into neutral.Look at me. I’m boring. I’m not worth it.
Does it work? For you?Elijah had asked. Sarah prays it will.
Ben takes off his mask. Sarah once thought him good-looking, but now the sight of his face makes her sick. She guesses the gash she’d opened under his jawline has been stitched up. If the police aren’t here to charge her with assault or attempted manslaughter, what excuse did he make at the hospital? Though it doesn’t matter. He’ll make up a new story once it scars, a story he can use to impress someone or gain their sympathy. A hockey fight, or a mark left by his old man, depending on who he talks to.
“You missed any major arteries, thank God. The hospital said it looked more serious than it was.” He leans toward Sarah, resting his elbows on his knees. “I suppose I only have myself to blame. I scared you when I grabbed your wrist.”
It’s one of the few true things he’s ever said.
His voice lowers. “But I was afraid of losing you.”
His eyes bore into hers. He’s probably been watching romance movies again to get the look right. The way he shifts the blame to her only makes her nauseous. It’sherfault he feels the way he does. It’s always her fault.
Elijah chooses that moment to enter. He sets Ben’s coffee on the side table next to the decorative antlers. Ben straightens, his jaw twitching. Sarah silently thanks Elijah for interrupting.
Elijah gawks at the gauze on Ben’s neck. “Shaving accident,” Ben says. His smile is easy, like a worn-in baseball cap that comes on or off, depending on the company. Sarah was once charmed by that smile, until she saw how quickly it disappeared after Ben got what he wanted.
When Elijah doesn’t leave, Ben’s jaw twitches again but he continues. “I know these are trying times. The two of us, cooped up in that little place—I get why you freaked out. I forgive you. Come home, Sarah. We’ve been together too long to throw away what we have.”
His voice is even and reasonable. Sarah’s own words choke in her mouth. She wants to tell himIt’s over. Just two little words, but they’re stuck in her throat like fishbones.Get out. Another two little words, but she’s terrified of how he might react. She ran from his wrath once; she has nowhere left to run, except the woods.
Her palms stick to the sofa’s vinyl slipcover. Her terror is a bubble expanding behind her sternum, hindering her breath and speech. It’s the same fear that took control of her body when he’d caught her in the apartment kitchen with her go-bag.
“I don’t think she wants to leave,” Elijah says.
Ben turns on Elijah, his smile deepening. “What did she tell you?”
Elijah comes forward, his long fingers clutching the back of the armchair. “That you abused her.”
“Did she tell you I hit her?” Ben splutters, more astonished than outraged. He rounds on Sarah. “Did you tell him Ihityou?”
She shakes her head, still unable to form words. Elijah says, “The lying. Cheating. Gaslighting.”
“When did I do that?” Ben asks her, disbelief clouding his face.
“All the time,” she croaks. He’s doing it now.
