I move closer, gaze trailing over each flooring sample that he pulls out of a bag. Reclaimed wood, polished concrete, and porcelain tile resembling wood. They’re all great options, but my eyes widen at the oak-inspired luxury vinyl plank.
I reach for the sample, fingers running over the grooves. “This one.”
“I thought you might pick that.”
“I love the polished concrete, but this is what I envision.”
Tom jots the selection down in his notepad. “We’ll get it ordered.”
He begins packing up as I spin around the space, taking it all in. It feels surreal that this is my life. A year ago, I was on a reality show, attending red carpet events and dining at LA’s finest restaurants. Selling houses to millionaires while harboring dark secrets and living in fear.
Now I’m chasing a new dream. Living in my hometown and loving the boy who broke my heart…While the threat of my ex hangs in the balance.
At least things have been quiet since the babysitting began. No more unexplained open doors and windows or items left on my front porch.
I’m not naive enough to believe it was a coincidence and he’s going to disappear. No, he’s waiting.
Lurking, like the monster he is.
But this time, he won’t land a punch. He won’t silence me.
Not this time.
This time, I have something to fight for.
“I’ll be in touch,” Tom says, bringing me back to the present. “Feel free to check in whenever you’re around.”
I extend my hand for a shake. “Thanks, Tom.”
A familiar whistle sounds from the front entrance. Tom and I share a chuckle at the same response I had upon entering the barn.
“Hard to believe this is the same barn,” Dad says as he steps deeper inside.
“Your daughter has quite the eye. If event planning doesn’t work out, we could use her at the firm.”
“Nonsense, Tommy. I just got my girl back.”
The two share a handshake and pleasantries as I watch. With a dip of his hat, Tom turns back to his crew, who are busy installing new floor joists.
“Have time to talk to your old man?”
The corners of my lips twitch. “Always.”
Dad swings a strong arm across my shoulders as he guides me out of the barn and away from prying ears. My pulse begins to hammer as my palms dampen in anticipation of what’s to come.
Each stride is intentional as we move closer to his truck. I catch the worry etched into the unfamiliar lines of his face. I’ve noticed the changes—new lines and wrinkles. He’s lookingolder lately, more worn with grief and worry. And I know if I tell him my entire truth, he’ll worry more.
“How’re things going, daughter of mine?”
“Fine,” I say quickly. Too quickly, because my dad’s side-glance has me ducking under his stare.
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, Wren. I saw the cruiser when I pulled in.”
I nibble on my lip. “Like Nate said, I have a babysitter. It’s a precaution, but I feel safer knowing I have another set of eyes watching over me.”
“I wish you would’ve told me.”
“I know, Dad. I’ve been trying to find the strength to tell you since I came home, but it’s not an easy subject to talk about. I never thought I’d be in a situation with a partner who abused me, but it found me. I feel so stupid.”
