“I love you, too. And I know you will. You’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known, Maya. But that doesn’t mean you should be sitting at home alone with this going on. I’m going to figure it out. We will.” He huffed out a sigh. “I swear, if this man gets close to you again, I’ll...” His silence was telling, and Dean exhaled to speak again, his voice sweeping through the line like a calm, loving hug that soothed me. “I want to be there for you, okay? Anything you need. And I’m going to figure out how to get there sooner.”
I pushed the covers off my legs and pitched forward, flattening my free hand on my knee. I wasn’t all right, not yet, but his words cushioned my heart and made me feel less terrified. More safe.
Protected.
“I love you,” Dean said. “Anything you need, just tell me.”
“I will. I love you, too.” I slid my legs over the edge of the bed. The smell of breakfast had started wafting through the crack under the door. I was overwhelmed trying to figure out how to handle the potential of Charlie being in town, trying to connect with me, but all these people wanting to help made me feel better. “Thank you.”
“Jesus, of course. I’m going to work on things here and I’ll call you a little later, all right?”
“Yes.”
“Be safe. Please.”
“I will.” When the call shut off, I tossed the phone on the bed and carried my coffee mug out to the kitchen with me. Selby squeezed my hand once I got to her, and Alex gave my back a rub before pulling a chair out for me.
And over ham, waffles and eggs, I tried to forget.
* * *
I threw myself into work on Monday, undeterred by the number of appointments I’d booked or the stories I heard in them. I felt safe at WOFC, partly because I was surrounded by people, but also because we were an institution that supported women who’d been through what I had. It helped to not only bury myself in caring for other people, but to have resources at my disposal so that on the off chance anything did go wrong—which, dear God, I hoped it didn’t—I’d be okay.
All day, Maddie acted more supportive than ever. My dear friend and a counselor herself, she knew my entire Charlie backstory. To say she was on edge on my behalf was an understatement; she brought me coffee and took me out to lunch, serving as half counselor, half friend until the close of business. She instructed Tania to talk to her first if any unusual shit showed up for me, which I appreciated. Between my Sunday spent handed from Selby’s care to Ryan’s, and Maddie’s wealth of skills in this context, I felt much calmer after I left work. On top of that, Dean had checked in nonstop by both text and phone. He’d told me Sunday night that he was almost cleared to get out of L.A. sooner, and though I had no idea how he was going to pull it off, the level of care he showed soothed my heart. I knew more than ever that he’d become my rock, and it left me more at peace when I reached the rental car place in Hayward to pick Ryan up Monday evening.
Ryan had rearranged his car drop-off to help shorten my drive to take him to the Oakland Airport, and as I pulled into the lot, he stood on the curb waiting with his duffel bag at his feet and his guitar slung over his shoulder. I took the parking spot in front of him, wishing the end of his visit hadn’t been tarnished by the events that’d gone down. He, too, had been worried beyond belief for me with his own series of texts and calls.
After he stashed his things in my trunk, he took the passenger seat and gazed at me. “Work okay?”
“Yeah. Good for my head.” I made a smoothing gesture with my hand in the space in front of me. “Calm and focus are ideal right now.”
“I get it.” Ryan rubbed the splash of scruff that’d formed on his chin, then rested his arm on the window ledge while I backed out. We’d left plenty of time to navigate commuter traffic and get him to the airport for prompt check-in.
“You had a hell of a whirlwind trip, huh?” I said, chuckling. “Beautiful wedding, lots of partying, being a rock superstar and dealing with your little sister’s freak-out. Good stuff.”
Ryan gave a lighthearted lift of his shoulders. “That’s the way to do it, right?” I caught the hard swallow he took before I stared back at the highway. It was warm outside, but it’d been overcast throughout the day—typical September weather, and yet bizarrely aligned with my cloudy head. “But if you think about it, that last part’s my fault, more than ever.”
“Ryan—”
He held up a hand to quiet me. “I should never have trusted him, Maya. You’re my sister. I don’t know what I was thinking, introducing you to someone I barely knew. That hurt you went through...it’s all because I didn’t take five seconds to consider what I was doing.”
“No, Ryan. You were young, and you thought he was nice. He played nice. That’s what Charlie did. He fooled everyone into thinking he was such a perfect guy, when really, he was...” I grunted with a scowl, the way he’d approached me at the club making me want to squirm. Was he doing it all over again? Or had he truly changed? Did it even matter? I wanted nothing to do with him. I focused on Ryan. “Okay, I need you to not beat yourself up over this. It does no good for anyone, certainly not me. It happened, all right? And maybe it was a fluke. Maybe he’s over it now that I blew him off. There’s no chance in hell I’ll hang out with him. He has to know that, deep down.” I squeezed the steering wheel, not wanting to watch another wince on Ryan’s face because I understood what a manipulator Charlie was. After I’d left him, he’d called me every night for weeks before he’d moved, begging and pleading for me to come back, putting on such a good show that I’d almost caved.
That was the funny thing about being in those relationships, and I’d seen it a hundred times over at WOFC. When you loved someone, you could fool yourself into believing good was there when it wasn’t, and that the hurt was in your imagination. And with someone as manipulative as Charlie, my God—he’d known how to play the cards, to make me believe the hurt was my own invention, and that every pain I’d complained of or cried over was my fault because there was something wrong with me to begin with.
No matter how shaken up I’d been, that, I knew without a doubt, wasn’t true. And that was what made him wanting to hang out again twice as terrifying. Did he really believe the slate could be wiped clean like that?
According to the traffic message board on the overpass ahead, we were about three miles from the airport off-ramp. That was a huge distance in this hour of traffic, but I wanted my last chunk of time with Ryan to be positive. I reached out and nudged his upper arm.
“Hey! It’ll be okay. Don’t worry. I’ve got Dean to protect me.” I smiled. I wasn’t trying to make light of anything. Charlie’s presence was serious, but with all the conversations I’d had with Dean, I’d started feeling much better.
When Ryan didn’t speak, I glanced over. He’d adjusted himself in his seat, tilting closer to the door with a wary frown on his lips.
The muscles of my shoulders tightened. “Ryan. Please don’t start this again.”
“I know you want that to make me feel better for you, but it doesn’t. Not at all,” he said, his voice sharp.
“Don’t. Please don’t—”
“Goddammit,” he launched. “I’m sorry, I can’t keep my mouth shut on this. You keep trying to deny it, too, which only convinces me more. How do you not see that he’s just like Charlie?” Ryan balled his hands into fists, and my jaw dropped.
“Are you out of your mind? He is not!”
“He is.” He cast me a horrified stare. “He puts on a good show for others, like Charlie did, but I heard how he talked to you in private. That’s what I was trying to explain at dinner. I’ve seen him ordering you around, putting you in uncomfortable positions.” My brain reeled, but he went off even more. “He’s so blatant about it, too. I don’t understand how you’ve fallen for it again, or convinced yourself it’s not the same. That’s the worst par
t!”
It was impossible to keep my cool with Ryan spouting this nonsense. And with how much tension still lingered in me after what’d happened over the weekend? This made no sense. First off, Dean was no Charlie, not even close. And second, what was he saying, hearing us talk in private? Every time Ryan had seen me with Dean, it’d been when the three of us had been together. “Are you tripping out? What the fuck?”
“Yeah, what the fuck, Maya. Dean was going off on your behavior, saying he was going to... Fuck! How could you work where you work, and have been through what you’ve been through, and... Uh!” He stopped with a disgusted jerk of his head.
I shook my hand in the air as I said, “What are you talking about?” I was losing my shit, fast. Dean joked about these things with me, in private, but he’d never say something in front of someone else lest it get misconstrued. I was glad to be exiting the freeway, because the traffic we sat through wasn’t conducive to my level of frustration. I stopped at the light for the street that led to the airport, and while it shone red like my budding anger, I peered at Ryan. “Please... Where are you getting this?”
“When we met for dinner.” He screwed his lips together, then spat, “I heard him. He didn’t know I could, and I heard the way he talks to you. He did it again at the wedding, in the hall. Not letting you get back to Selby, like he owned you or something. What is that?” I swayed my head, confused. “So I cornered him after, but he acted insulted and tried to avoid the whole topic like I was the one doing something wrong.”
The knot already forming in my stomach wrenched, hard. “You what?”
“I told him if he fucked with my sister, I’d kill him. He’s no better than Charlie.”
The car behind me honked twice. I’d gotten so lost in what Ryan was saying, I hadn’t noticed the light turning green. Quickly, I glanced left and pressed the gas pedal to make the turn. He’d cornered Dean at the wedding? That was what that whole thing had been about, and his fit at dinner, too? Ryan had been threatening my brother over who knew what. I wasn’t kidding about what I said. Don’t you forget it.
He’d threatened him all over again at our house, too!
Why the hell hadn’t Dean shared that this was what’d gone on? It explained his interrogation about Ryan, but why hadn’t he straight-up told me?
“Ryan.” I tried to moderate my voice and I failed. “You had no business doing that! You have no idea what you’re talking about. Fuck, I don’t even know what you’re talking about—”
“Yeah, okay. Whatever.” The vehemence in his voice made me cringe.
We weren’t three minutes from airport drop-off, and this was how my brother was leaving town? Fuck this.
I slammed my palm down on the steering wheel. There was no way to make sense of this, not in the few minutes we had until he’d have to jump out and check in for his flight. “I don’t know how you’ve come up with this theory and warped it as badly as you have, but if I tell you things are okay,” I said, cranking my head to give him a sharp look while I pulled into the drop-off area, “then I fucking mean it. I didn’t go through what I went through to fall into that trap again. You should know that!”
“Maya—”
“No,” I snapped. Him bringing this up on the heels of me seeing Charlie was too much. “This conversation is done. I’m freaked the fuck out over what happened this weekend, and you don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.” I slowed beside the traffic guard waving us on, and then I pulled up to the curb, shifting the car into park and taking a breath. “I promise you, whatever you think you heard or saw was nothing. Dean is an amazing guy. I’m happy. I’m safe. Please, trust me.”
Ryan watched me intently. Maybe he was waiting for me to break, to tell him what he wanted to hear, but he was wrong, dead wrong, and looking out for me or not, his misinterpretation was so off that it broke my heart. I took his hand.
“I love you. I’m okay.”
“O-kay,” he said, sarcastic.
I didn’t know what else to say. Neither of us did, and we sat there in silence until the traffic guard blew his whistle and waved for us to get into gear. Ryan opened his door, and I popped the trunk, so goddamn frustrated it hurt. After he took his stuff out and set it on the curb, he grabbed my shoulders.
“I love you, kid. I know you have to come to it in your own time and all that, but...man. How many times do you have to get hurt?” He wrapped his arms around me, and I almost laughed into his shoulder. He was way off base, set in his head trip like only Ryan could be, and I was so utterly fucked over from seeing Charlie that I couldn’t even gather how to break through to him in the next thirty seconds before he’d rush off to security or miss his flight. I squeezed him back, hating that the trip was ending this way.
“I swear to God, you’re wrong.” My gut churned. How do you convince someone that, crazy or not, it was your life to live?
And that he’s wrong?
Ryan broke the hug to pick up his guitar case, looping the strap across his chest and slinging his duffel bag over his other shoulder. He didn’t smile as he started to back away. “Be careful, Maya.”
“Fly safe, Ryan.”
He spun around, then sped in through the sliding doors of the terminal, and I climbed into my car frustrated enough to cry.
Chapter Eleven
Blurry was an apt description of my next few days. I needed distractions more than I already had, Ryan’s crazy extended freak-out bringing more Charlie stuff up that had me turning the incident around again in my mind. The best-case scenario was Charlie realizing I wasn’t playing along and getting the hell out of town so I’d never see him again, but I couldn’t obsess over the idea, because I had no control over what he did. Over and over again, I ran scripts through my head of all I’d learned when I’d worked on my fears and pain after our relationship had ended. I took comfort in those close to me, too. Maddie supported me at work, Selby checked in frequently on her breaks at school and, despite our challenging parting words, Ryan sent a few texts.
The biggest force had been Dean, though. His worry was more than obvious, and somehow, he’d found a way to get home early. He was supposed to finish in L.A. next Thursday, but he’d sped things up to fly home Friday afternoon, instead.
“You’re sure?” I’d asked him. “I don’t want to make this complicated—”
“Stop. You are my number one priority. This job...it’s just that. A job. Worst case, I’ll fly down here later. I told the owner this isn’t negotiable.”
His sincerity and care had helped lift me up more to the point that, even from a distance, I felt better. Safer. I couldn’t wait to see him, to feel his arms wrapping tight around me—but I also needed to brace myself on my own in the meantime. I’d spent enough years working through this to know I couldn’t rely entirely on someone else for reassurance, so when I got home from feeling good slaying everything on my to-do list at work, I had to find other outlets to keep my thoughts away from the what-if’s trying desperately to play out in my head.
Fortunately, I had plenty to do. We had two weeks left until the official checkout date on my condo scheduled the last weekend of my lease, and after work Wednesday, I opted to get things ready. I’d listed a couple of bigger pieces of furniture for sale online earlier on, intending for whatever I couldn’t sell to get moved into Dean’s storage unit to sort out later. I met with one gentleman who’d left me a message a week ago, and he happily took my couch off my hands that very day in the back of his truck. After, I’d headed to Half Moon Bay, feeling lighter. All I could do was bulldoze through things, because falling apart wasn’t going to help anything.
On Thursday night, I arrived home at a reasonable hour and decided to take my first run in Half Moon Bay before sunset. Dean had pointed out a half-dozen trails for me when we’d gone on a walk on the beach one afternoon, but exploring the territory s
olo was an adventure I craved. Endorphins, sweat and the ocean air could do nothing but elevate my mood and distract me from the buzz of nervousness over being alone that tried to well up in me, so I layered myself in my running pants and a hoodie over my T-shirt, then strapped my phone to my arm before I set out across the sand. The nearby trail broke in multiple directions, some running off to Half Moon Bay State Beach and others weaving along the surf or up into the grasslands. I chose one of the latter, the hard-packed dirt a different challenge than the paved trail I’d been used to back in Alameda. I liked it, though. I felt better, charging out on my own like this and carving my path. I didn’t want to be afraid. I wanted to stay focused, determined. Strong. It was the only thing I could be if I was going to stay sane. The beam of the lighthouse on the bluff ahead and the salty air against my cheeks didn’t hurt to temper my nerves, either, and I soaked up the beautiful, serene view as the sun started its descent over the water and I ran in a new direction. Though there was an increasing chill in the air thanks to the fog and my location on the coast, I savored the evening briskness for the two-and-a-half miles I ran before doubling back to home.
Once there, I wasn’t quite done with my mental checkout. I stretched and snacked on a small dinner, then sat my ass in front of the piano. I’d skipped out on playing between the wedding and the moving, but it called to me from its spot along the back wall of the house. It still needed a tuning even after I’d let it sit to adjust to the higher humidity, but the pitch wasn’t too far off, allowing me to lose myself for a while until it was time to take a shower. On my route straight to bed, my phone rang. I scooped it up, happy to see Dean’s number on the screen.
“Hey. I was about to head to bed. How are you?” I asked.
“I’m fine. Heading to bed shortly myself. How’re you feeling?”
I pulled back the covers and climbed in. The sheets smelled like Dean, that wonderful man smell I loved surrounding me. I tucked them up around my chin and clutched the phone to my ear. “I’m doing better. Staying occupied.”
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