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“You good?” he asks, through gritted teeth and I nod. There is a part of me that wants to look at him, wants to see his reaction but I don’t think I could bear it. I don’t want to see what he thinks of me for living like this for so long. Then again, it wasn’t this bad when I lived here. As we step into the apartment, I cover my nose and scan the area around me. My suitcase is sitting by the door where he probably tossed it the night I left. His beer can tower is spilling out all over the floor. The floor is sticky in places and I have to peel my foot off the floor just to take a step.

Jesus Christ.

How in the hell was I living like this?

My mind flips to my cute little apartment above the bakery - the place that has brought me so much peace and happiness - and when I compare it to this, I can’t even form words. I think of all those late nights I came home to find Owen parked in front of the TV, a beer in his hand and so many damn messes for me to clean up. I remember the way he’d stumble into the bedroom just as I was falling asleep and pester me for sex or a blow job until I gave in just so I could get some rest. I replay all those meals I’d throw together for him in between my two jobs and the way he was never satisfied, the way I always could have done something better.

My breath saws in and out of my lungs and my hands tremble at my sides as I remember all the little digs he’d make at me, disguised as jokes, and the way I’d just have to take it. Otherwise, it’d turn into a full-blown lecture about how I was too sensitive and how I just needed to lighten up. I think of every time I’d pass by his recliner and he’d slap my ass like I was just an object for his amusement. I replay the arguments where I begged for his help and somehow it always turned into me never being enough.

I could work harder.

I could be stronger.

I could just deal with it.

And how he always made himself out to be so in need of sympathy.

He was trying.

He was putting in so many applications but nobody was calling him back.

They were all out to get him.

Lies.

Now that I’m out, now that I’ve been on my own for almost a week, I can see all his words for what they truly are - fiction.

“Lennon,” Dalton says, softly, drawing my attention to him but I still can’t stand to look at him. I don’t want to see the truth of what he thinks of me now in his eyes. He must think I’m so fucking pathetic.

Because I am.

“Lennon,” he says again, firmer this time, as he steps in front of me. He reaches out and brushes a tear from my cheek. A tear I didn’t even realize was there. Ever so gently, he forces my gaze to his and once I look in those blue eyes, he’s all I can see. “What do you need?”

“I…”

Fuck.

What do I need?

As I stare up at him, one single thought pops into my mind.

“I need to be done with this place.”

He nods. “Let’s do it, then.”

“Okay,” I whisper, unable to drag my eyes away from his face. One corner of his mouth tips up in a smile that is so reassuring I could cry. Again.

“I take it that’s the suitcase you wanted?” he asks, glancing over his shoulder to look at the suitcase sitting by the door. I spare it a glance before meeting his gaze again with a nod.

“Yeah. That’s the one.”

He nods and takes a step back, his hand falling away from my face. I miss it instantly.

“I’m going to take that down to the Jeep. Why don’t you look around and see what else you want to grab?”

I watch him walk out of the apartment with the suitcase and once he’s out of my sight, I turn to look around the place I used to live. Truthfully, there isn’t a lot left here that I want to take with me. There are a couple photos on the wall of me and my sister or Morgan and I. I grab them quickly and tuck them under my arm as I walk into the bedroom. My gaze flicks toward the closet and I remember the totes that contain all the decor from my teenage bedroom back in Arizona. Owen declared it “too goddamn girly” and didn’t let me put any of it up. But his idea of home design is a beer poster and a big screen tv.

“Anything else?” Dalton asks, coming into the room behind me. I nod and point to the closet.