Page 188 of Say My Name

I learned from it. Depending on another person is dangerous. Wanting someone gives him leverage. Love makes it possible for him to hurt me.

Those rules kept me safe for years because I never questioned the person who taught them to me.

The trail grows steeper, so I slow my pace, watching for loose rocks beneath my boots.

Daniel wasn’t dangerous because I loved him. He was dangerous because he wanted my dependence and used it against me.

I stop in the middle of the trail.

It shouldn’t have taken me this long to separate those two things. I blamed love because admitting I trusted the wrong man meant accepting that no system could protect me from every bad choice.

Dominic has had professional authority over me for four years. He has never used it to diminish me. When he offered to become the father of my child, he insisted on independent attorneys, workplace protections, and terms designed to keep his position from limiting my choices.

He asked permission before touching me. He listened when I said no, and he listened when I said yes. Even when the answer hurt him.

I understood all of that before I came here. I treated it like evidence I couldn’t use because accepting it would require me to risk more than a contract could protect.

The wind whips my hair across my face. I pull it back and turn toward the cabin.

I’m not ready to keep climbing.

On Monday morning, I return.

The same trail is waiting for me, and the incline is just as punishing. My legs burn as I climb, but I keep going until the trees thin and the ridge opens in front of me.

Mountains stretch across the horizon in layers of dark green, gray rock, and snow.

I lower myself onto a flat section of rock and take out my water.

Control helped me rebuild my life. It gave me something to rely on when my judgment was ruined, and every plan I’d made with Daniel had collapsed. I don’t regret the career, the condo, or the independence I fought to earn.

I do regret letting control become another dependency.

I trust schedules, contracts, and detailed plans to keep pain away. Whenever one stops working, I replace it: a binder for motherhood, a contract for Dominic, separate households so I could have him in my life without admitting I wanted to share one, and now a cabin in Colorado because pregnancy, love, and Daniel arrived on the same day.

I keep changing the plan, but I’m still asking it to guarantee that no one can hurt me.

No plan can do that.

My phone feels heavy in my pocket.

I take it out and open a blank note. I’m done analyzing. It’s time to write down what I know.

Pregnant.

I love Dominic.

He is not Daniel.

I chose wrong.

My thumb hovers above the screen.

I can choose differently.

I save the note.

On the walk back to the cabin, my phone rings.