I paused just as I was about to break an egg, shell cold in my palm.
Now I felt compelled to share something real. Because I knew the pain that came with that vulnerability. When opening up felt like exposing raw nerves to the wind.
It was ingrained in the universe, the first law of thermodynamics.
You couldn’t take without giving something up.
And I realized right then how much I’d been taking.
You could say I was born into this line of work. My father was a bad man, and he worked for worse men.
Shay was silent a moment. And while the bigger part of me hoped she’d come to her senses and fallen asleep, another, vocal part reminded me that someone like her could never really want someone like me.
Then she responded.
That doesn’t seem very fair.
I stuttered at the response. No judgment. No hate. Just…empathy.
Then she gave me more.
I’m embarrassed that I stayed with someone who treated me so poorly for so long.
I quirked my neck to the left, then to the right, trying to work out the rage that tightened my muscles.
Failing.
Her ex-fiancé. Her notniceex. The guy that had basically assaulted her for her first time.
Anyone who would let her go was already an asshole—but did he hurt her? Was hestillhurting her? I’d tried finding his name out myself, but couldn’t find a thing on Shay’s fiancé. Which was unusual and unnerving.
I wanted to know his name.
But I knew if I asked, I’d ruin this.
So I responded with another confession.
My mother died because of me. My brother went to jail for me. I’ve done much worse things than stalking. I’m not a good person.
Almost instantly, Shay responded.
Sometimes I wonder how much scar tissue my soul can handle before all blood flow is cut off and I petrify. I worry that even though I can’t feel it, it’s still alive in me, trapped under layers of fascia, scraping away vital parts of me.
I rubbed my jaw, staring at yet another hint of the darkness she concealed. Even though I had no right to say it, I messaged her.
Make me a promise. When you need help, with anything, you ask me.
Less than a minute later, Shay responded.
Well, I do have a stalker. Maybe that’s something you can help with?
Another involuntary laugh escaped my throat. She was so fucking funny. I hadn’t laughed in…I don’t know how long. Years, probably. And now in the span of one night Shay had me laughing twice.
The oven dinged, and I placed the lemon poppy seed muffins I’d been making inside, then asked Shay a simple question.
What’s your favorite show?
In the time it took for Shay to answer, I cleaned up the kitchen, tossed the loose eggshells, and swiped away flour. And then my phone buzzed with an alert, but Shay hadn’t answered my question.
