“Nothing,” I whisper.
“No, finish it.” He’s close enough now that I can smell the gym on him. Sweat and desperation and that damn cologne. “What didn’t I make you do?”
“Evan, just… just go. Please.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” His hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around my wrist. Not tight enough to bruise, but firm enough to make his point. “Not until we talk this out.”
“Let go of me.”
“Mary.” His grip tightens slightly. “I lost my job last week. Sandy dumped me the day after. I’ve got nothing left. Nothing except—”
Ah. There it is. The penny drops so hard it echoes in my chest.This is why he’s here. Not because of me. Not because of love. Because his shiny new toy broke, and I’m the last couch cushion where he knows he can still find loose change.
“Except what? Me?” The words rip out of my throat. “I’m your backup plan? Your safety net? The boring girl who’ll always be there when everyone else realizes you’re not worth the effort?”
His face goes dark. “Watch it.”
“Or what?” And suddenly I’m not afraid anymore. I’m furious. Six years of swallowing my words, of making myself smaller, of pretending I was grateful for the bare minimum. “You’ll dump me again? Block me? Find another woman to cheat with while I sit at home wondering what I did wrong?”
“You ungrateful—” His other hand comes up, finger pointed at my face. “Do you have any idea how good you had it? How many guys would put up with your shit?”
“My shit?” I laugh, and it sounds hysterical even to me. “What shit? Wanting you to remember my birthday? Asking you to meet my grandmother? Hoping you might actually care enough to—”
“To what? Marry you?” He laughs, cruel and sharp. “Jesus, Mary. Look at yourself. Really look. You think anyone else is going to want this? You think that felon you’re screwing actually gives a damn about you?”
The words are intended to hurt. But instead of shrinking back, something inside me snaps.
“You know what?” I yank my wrist out of his grip. “Maybe he doesn’t. Maybe I’m just a job to him, or a convenience, or whatever. But at least he doesn’t make me feel like garbage for existing.”
Evan’s face twists. “That’s not— I never—”
“You did.” My voice is getting louder, stronger. “Every day. Every single day, you made me feel like I should be grateful you bothered to text me back. Like I was lucky you didn’t leave sooner.”
“Maybe you were.”
The words hang in the air between us like poison.
And that’s when he moves.
Not to hit me. Evan’s too much of a coward for that. But to the door. His hand slams against it, turning the deadbolt with a sharp click.
“What are you doing?”
“Making sure you listen.” He leans against the door, blocking it with his body. “We’re not done talking.”
My blood goes cold. “Open the door, Evan.”
“When I’m finished.”
“Open it now.”
“Or what? You’ll call your boyfriend? The one who looks like he murders people for a living?” He pulls out his phone and waves it at me. “Go ahead. Call him. Let him come rescue you again.”
I reach for my purse, but Evan’s faster. He grabs it and tosses it across the room. My phone skitters under the couch.
“Evan, stop. You’re scaring me.”
“Good.” His eyes are different now. Wild. Desperate. “Maybe now you’ll pay attention. Maybe now you’ll remember who you really are.”
