Ruined: A Contemporary Bad Boy Romance

by Lisa Lace

  Jenna looked like she was going to cry, and she tightened her arms around her and looked away. She shut her eyes and took a few deep breaths. When she looked back, she managed a gentle, sad smile. “You didn’t cross a line. You did nothing wrong.”

  I wanted to ask her why she had cut me off that night, but I didn’t want to push her. I held my tongue.

  She let out a long, anxious breath and tried to explain. “What happened was my fault. I shouldn’t have let things go as far as they did, but I just…you just…” Her voice trailed off, and she turned her back to me to gaze out the window. “There are so many things I wish I could tell you.”

  I followed her path and placed a hand on her shoulder, turning her to face me again. “Is there something stopping you?”

  Jenna shook her head and drew in a sharp breath to hold back her tears. She shook her head. “No. It’s not the time or the place. You don’t know me well enough for me to start crying on your shoulder.”

  “I came crying on yours.”

  She gave me a small, tight, smile. “That’s different.”

  “Still, you listened.”

  “Look, Nate, the best thing you can do is just forget this thing ever happened. Trust me, it’s better for us both.”

  I wanted to argue with her, but at the same time, I didn’t want to push Jenna on a sensitive subject. Something had happened to Jenna long before I ever came along, and it was making her hold back now. I didn’t know what it was, or why it was making her act so strangely, but I could sense it. It was wedged between us like a mountain.

  “I thought it was a great evening.”

  “Me, too.”

  There she went again with the mixed signals. In one breath, she was telling me that I was better off leaving her alone; in the next, she revealed that she enjoyed our time together. I wished I knew whatever it was she was keeping from me. I wondered if it would change anything. If I had been a different man, I might have told her that I hadn’t felt drawn to a woman since my wife’s death, and I wasn’t willing to let her go. Whatever it was, I could handle it. But I was a man of few words in situations like these.

  I sighed. “Let me know if anything changes.”

  Another forced smile. “Thanks.”

  Even as I took Harriet’s hand and began to walk away, I could feel Jenna’s eyes boring into me and begging me to turn around. I didn’t look back. I wasn’t one for mixed messages. If it wasn’t to be, I would move on. Moving on was what I did best.

  I had to swing by the station to check in with the chief about next week’s schedule before heading home. I decided to head over to Carla’s coffee shop to ask her to keep an eye on Harriet for a few minutes.

  When I arrived, Carla instantly picked up on my demeanor and leaned on one elbow on the counter with a frown. “What’s up, sugar? You look like someone’s kicked up all your daisies.”

  I smiled. “Just one of those days.”

  “Bad day at work?”

  “Something like that.”

  “What can I get you?”

  “Black coffee for me. Juice and a cake pop for the little one.”

  “You got it.”

  I drummed my fingers on the counter while I waited, watching Carla work the coffee machine. When she came back with a paper cup and a juice box, I asked, “Hey, Carla, what’s the story with that new woman in your apartment building? The one that works at the preschool?”

  “Jenna?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “Anything you can tell me.”

  Carla’s mouth curved into a wicked grin. “Anything you need to tell me first?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Not a thing.”

  “It’s not like you realized I was right all along, and now you’re after her?”

  “You couldn’t be further from the truth.”

  Carla grinned and leaned back with her arms folded across her chest. “Well… she’s moved here to pick herself up after her last relationship, although she’ll tell you she’s here for a job. She’s studying to teach. She’s not into expensive trinkets like jewelry as far I can tell, but her apartment is filled with books and plants. If you’re trying to win her heart, I’d suggest bringing her a book or some flowers.”

  “I’m not trying to win her heart.”

  Carla sighed dramatically. “You two are so much alike! She wants to fuck you, you want to fuck her. What’s taking you two so long?”

  I shook my head slowly and gave Carla a fond, if slightly disapproving, look. “Good things take time, Carla.”

  “Come off it, Nate. She’s gorgeous.” Carla leaned forward again. “You’ll tell me if something happens, right?”

  “You will be the first to know. Will you watch Harriet while I sort out some work stuff?”

  Carla nodded, then leaned over the counter to hand Harriet her cake pop. “There you go, sweetie. Can you sit on the table over there where Aunty Carla can keep an eye on you? Daddy will be right back.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Any time.”

  I walked back across the road toward the station. Carla had told me only a little about Jenna, but the part sticking in my mind was the bit about her picking up after a bad relationship. That explained a few things about why she had sent me home that night. Maybe she was still getting over the last guy.

  I smiled. At least her mind made a little more sense now. I wasn’t wrong; we had chemistry. Jenna needed time. I could give her that.

  Jenna

  I waited until I got home to open the letter. I was looking forward to it. As my old life slowly slipped away, the letters were the last connection I had to Pennsylvania. I was happy to let most of my past go, but there were bits and pieces that I still missed, like my sister and her kids. I liked to read about them. My niece had a school play coming up. My nephew had earned his purple belt in karate. I loved knowing they were happy and well.

  I was smiling as I sat down by the window to open the letter. Not so long ago, words from my sister would have me tearful and homesick, but now I looked forward to hearing from her.

  I tore open the envelope and unfolded the letter inside.

  Dear Jenna,

  How are you? I hope you’re well.

  I hope you’re safe.

  I don’t know if I should tell you this because you seem to be settling down, but I worry about what might happen if I don’t. Look, Jenna—Victor has been sniffing around. He came by over the weekend, shouting up a storm. He demanded to know where you were. I said I didn’t know. He’s been around to Mom and Dad’s as well, making threats. I know with Victor, he always makes empty threats and likes to throw his weight around, but this time, it seemed different.

  He looked crazy.

  He said if he found you, he was going to make you pay. Jenna, I don’t know what that means, and I’m afraid. I think you need to get yourself some protection. We told him we didn’t know where you were, but I don’t think that meant anything. He seemed wild. Obsessed. I’m scared for you.

  Victor isn’t known for his integrity. I wonder what he’s capable of with the kind of information he can get his hands on at the station. What if he runs your license plate? Can he find you like that?

  Anything could happen.

  Please keep yourself safe, Jenna. Stay alert. As far as I know, Victor doesn’t know where you are, but he hasn’t given up, and he’s furious.

  He’s always managed to find you before.

  I’ll keep my eye on Mom and Dad. You keep an eye on you. Please call me, Jenna. I want to hear your voice.

  We love you.

  Charlotte, Becky and Dylan

  I read the letter once, twice, and a final time until the words started to run together. I felt my heart drop down into my stomach. The room was spinning. I struggled to draw a breath as the tears streamed down my face. It wasn’t over. Victor hadn’t given up.

  I had been naïve to think that anything would ever, could ever, change. How many
times had I moved from place to place in Pennsylvania? How many times had I changed my number? How many nights had I cried on Charlotte’s shoulder and told her I felt like I couldn’t continue another day?

  Victor had been hunting me ever since I’d left him—over a year ago, now. Even when I couldn’t see him, he was there. Everywhere I went, he followed.

  A shiver ran down my spine, and I put my head in my hands. Would he find me again?

  I told myself that it wasn’t possible. I’d crossed state lines. I’d gotten a new job. I’d kept my address a secret. I had a new phone. I’d even dyed my hair, just in case he came to town asking about a blonde. I’d done everything possible to make sure that I left Victor far behind, yet I knew what he could do to track me down.

  There were no limits to what dishonest men could do. Especially ones with a badge on their chest.

  I pictured him going from door to door, flashing his ID and asking if anyone had seen a woman matching my description. He’d have no luck running my plates. I’d thought of that and bought a run-down second-hand car to get me here. But what if he went to the dealerships and asked around? What if someone remembered my name? Should I have changed that, too?

  I squeezed my eyes shut and felt more tears escape. I felt like my whole identity was caught between Victor’s clasping fingers, and he was squeezing to crush the life out of me. What was I going to do?

  I wanted Charlotte. Or my mom. I wanted anybody who could hold me and tell me my life would be okay. But I didn’t know anybody in this town. At least, nobody who I felt close enough to so I could tell them my secrets. Carla was around, but I didn’t want to bring Victor’s poison into our friendship.

  There was Nate…had I burned that bridge? Even if I hadn’t walked him to the door that night, I would never have told him about all this. I hadn’t been in this town long enough to start hanging out my dirty laundry in public. I wanted to keep my history in the past. I wanted this fresh start to stay fresh.

  Who could I turn to?

  I bit down on my lip as I thought, my chin resting on my fist. Suddenly, a memory stirred in the back of my mind. Nate’s sister. Didn’t she run a support group for women like me?

  Women like me…what did that even mean? Women who had been unlucky in love? Women who had stayed in a relationship for too long? Women who had been on the receiving end of a vile man’s temper one too many times?

  I went to my bedroom, pulled out my computer from the shelf of my bedside table, and opened it up on my lap, brushing away tears with the back of my hand. I remembered the name of Kacey’s support group, and I typed it into the search bar.

  The details flashed up on the screen. I stared at them a long time. What should I do?

  * * *

  The support group was held in the Village Hall, which was a little one-story building on its own lot, just one street over from the main street. It was a cute pink brick edifice with a large clock on its tower. I arrived ten minutes before the group began.

  I pulled into the lot like a fugitive. I kept looking over my shoulder as if somebody I’d gotten to know in this small town would spot me sneaking in and somehow know my life story. Keeping my head down, I walked briskly across the asphalt and through the front door into the hall.

  It was a surprisingly nice building, light and airy. There were glass display frames on the wall that were covered with posters and flyers for local events and groups. Most of them were wholesome activities, like the gardening club or new mothers group. It made me sad to think that there were a few of us who’d experienced the less wholesome side of life, who didn’t gather to discuss azaleas or breastfeeding techniques.

  We gathered to keep each other strong. At least, I hoped I would find some strength here. God knew I needed it.

  I peered around the door and found the group to be larger than I expected. There were six women there in total. Six seemed like a large number for a town so small. I wondered if that meant there were six vicious men out there somewhere, hiding in plain sight in this respectable, virtuous community. It made me shake my head sadly to think that every town had its demons moving through the crowd.

  I felt nervous as I took my seat and placed my purse on the ground. I looked around anxiously at the faces of the other women sitting in the circle. Three of them were around my own age; two were probably in their mid to late forties. Then there was the leader of the group—Kacey. She’d picked up Harriet from time to time.

  She recognized me, too. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise when she spotted me, but then her mouth curved into a smile, and she nodded welcomingly in my direction. She was an attractive woman who held herself with confidence. She was still wearing a suit—from work, I assumed—and her dark hair was fixed neatly into a bun at the back of her head. She wore a demure purplish lipstick and dark eyeshadow. On the surface, she looked like a serious professional, but when she smiled, she exuded warmth.

  She smiled at the group now. “Welcome again, everyone. Please, find a seat. Get comfortable. I can see we have some new faces today, so let’s introduce ourselves.”

  The ladies began to introduce themselves in turn, and I tried to remember their names—Lily, Elizabeth, Amy, Becky, Sue, and, of course, Kacey. I gave my own name, nervously glancing at Kacey as I did so.

  “Remember, ladies,” she said, “this is an anonymous group. What we say in this circle, stays in this circle.” She gave me a comforting smile. “So, how is everyone doing this week? How are we feeling? Anyone want to get us started?”

  Amy raised her hand. “Ben didn’t show up to pick up the kids this weekend. Then he shows up on Wednesday and expects me to hand them over.” I saw her jaw tremble as she drew in a deep breath, blinking back tears. “I told him that if he wanted to see the kids outside his scheduled time, he’d have to go through the courts. I shut the door.”

  The group began to clap supportively.

  “That must have been very difficult for you to do,” Kacey sympathized.

  Amy nodded and let out a bark of a laugh. “I was shaking like a leaf the whole time.”

  “But you stood your ground.”

  “I had 911 dialed. I had my thumb on ‘call.’ I was ready to scream at the cops if I had to.”

  I listened as the group discussed Amy’s situation a bit more. I understood she’d finally escaped a violent marriage, but was still having issues over custody. She was learning to stand her ground but was terrified every time her ex showed up at the door. I understood her fear, and my heart went out to her. I could only imagine what it would be like to have kids with Victor, to have to see him all the time for their sakes or because of a court order. It must be hell.

  One by one, the other girls unloaded about the struggles in their own lives. Some of them, like Amy, still had to face their exes in their lives. Others were trying to cope with the aftermath of relationships that had torn them apart and broken them down. I felt for each and every one of those women.

  Finally, Kacey turned to me. “Jenna, we haven’t heard from you. Do you want to share today?”

  I took a deep breath and gazed at the group. I suddenly felt like all my words had dried up, and I was tightly clutching my knees. The other women smiled encouragingly at me.

  I wet my lips and cleared my throat until I’d managed to swallow away the ball of nerves.

  “I dated a man named Victor. We were together four years. He was…well, what can I say about Victor? He was possessive, jealous, mean. Towards the end, he was violent. I stayed with him for far too long, until my family opened my eyes and I realized he was running my life. I was desperately unhappy, and I wasn’t safe with him. I walked away.”

  I looked around again at the group. The women were all leaning in to listen attentively to what I was saying. Their eyes were filled with concern and understanding. I felt myself welling up. It broke my heart that other women had walked the same path as me, but, at the same time, it was nice to have people around who understood.

  I kept speaking.
“For the last year or so, I’ve been trying to get away from him. I’ve had to change my number more times than I can count. I moved three times. I switched jobs. This was all back in Pennsylvania. After he found me the third time, I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. I needed to get away for good, and I moved here.”

  “And how has it been?” Kacey asked me kindly.

  I sighed and looked down. “It was going great. Better than I’d ever imagined. I thought it was over. I thought I could start to live my life again. Then I received this.” I pulled the letter from my purse and held it up to the group. “It’s from my sister. She says Victor’s been looking for me. Now I feel like I can’t breathe. I thought he’d finally given up and let me go, but here I am, wanting to run.”

  “What will you do?” Elizabeth asked.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Does he know where you are?” Kacey asked.

  “I don’t think so, but he could find out. He’s a policeman. He has ways.”

  “Have you spoken to the cops here about it?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t have much faith in the law these days.”

  Kacey’s smile was understanding, her voice gentle. “It’s hard to do things alone. That’s what this group is for. That’s what the police are for. We need support to move past these relationships—emotional and legal. It’s peace of mind to know that the law is on your side.”

  “I had a restraining order against him back in Johnstone, but it was hell trying to get anyone to enforce it.”

  “This isn’t Johnstone. Maybe you should look at getting the order transferred.”

  The session came to an end a while later. Nothing had been resolved—Victor was still out there looking for me—but I felt better. I felt stronger with the others around me and emboldened by their stories. All of the women were survivors standing their ground. If they could do it, so could I.

  As I went to leave the group, Kacey called me over and greeted me with a warm smile. “I’m delighted you came tonight, Jenna.”

  “I almost didn’t come. Brayford was supposed to be a fresh start. I was kind of hoping that the past would stay in the past. It hasn’t worked out like that. I needed somewhere to go to help me stay strong and not give up.”