I immediately see why Bradley sounds different.
Because it isn’t Bradley standing six feet away while I’m naked in the shower.
It’sNeil.
“What are you doing here?” I yell, waving him backwards. “Go away!”
He looks hurt and angry, but goes around the side of the house. I cover myself with my towel, then gather my clothes from the steps and quickly change. When I go inside, Neil is sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the floor, fists clenched.
“You need to leave,” I say.
“What’s his name?”
“How did you find me?” My voice is shaking. It takes everything in me not to scream and run away, though I know if I did, he’d chase me. He wouldn’t let me go. It can’t have been easy to find me, and he’s not about to leave without a fight.
“It didn’t take long, did it?”
“I’m not doing this with you,” I reply, trying to keep my voice even. “It’s over. We’re over.”
“Is that why you blocked me?” I think about explaining that Grace took my phone, but it would be a lie. I did block Neil’s number, and it’s better if he knows. “So you can cheat on me?”
“We’re not together anymore.”
“How many guys has it been since you left?” He stands up and rolls his shoulders. I’ve never thought of Neil as a violent person, but there’s something charged about his body language. I can feel the pent-up anger and humiliation looking for an outlet.
“You were doing this the whole time, weren’t you, you little slut?”
I go back towards the door, but he cuts off the angle, and I find myself in the corner of the room, around the side of the bed.
“Please, Neil!” I feel tears in my eyes. “It’s not like that.”
He makes a clicking noise with his tongue. “This place gives me the willies. It’s falling to pieces. It’s a real shithole. You must have really hated me to move in here.”
“I never hated you,” I whisper.
“What’s that?” He puts on his booming lawyer’s voice. “Speak up!”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Funny way of showing it. Hope these people are paying you well. This place needs demolition. No power, no natural light, the trees. Brie. This place is a crime scene.” He taps the cracked window. “Past or future. Maybe both.”
He’s on the bed, effectively blocking me in the corner of the room. But then, to my relief, he begins to cry.
“Neil—”
“Who are you fucking?”
“None of your business.”
“How is it not my business?”
“BecauseI’mnot your business. You don’t get to be jealous. You don’t get to be here. It’s over.”
“Don’t you love me?”
The emotional blackmail is so intense, I want to scream.
“You need to move on,” I say quietly. “And you need to get out. ”
