Page 34 of Flashback for the Forward

Pulling the door open revealed a pretty brunette dressed in professional attire.

A kind smile stretched across her face as she pushed her sunglasses up so that they rested atop her head. “Nice to finally meet you in person,” she teased.

“Please come in.” I stepped back to grant her entry.

Paranoid out of my mind, I scanned the quiet suburban street for anything that might seem off before shutting the door and turning to my guest.

Arizona set down the bags she carried, dusting her hands off on her wide-leg trousers. “First, I’d like to apologize on behalf of my husband. Levi feels terrible that he and Maisie burst in here yesterday and frightened you.”

Guilt over that situation swirled in my gut. “I shouldn’t have overreacted.”

Her eyes tracked from the bandages on my face to the bruises around my neck. “I think you had every right to be on high alert.”

I wondered if there would ever come a time when I wouldn’t fear for my life at every unexpected noise. I sure hoped so but doubted it. The damage from years spent with Aiden went deeper than the marks he’d left on my skin—I would forever bear invisible scars from his mental and physical abuse.

My bare feet scuffed against the hardwood flooring as I hung my head.

Sensing my discomfort, Arizona breezed on. “When I spoke to Cole and asked if there was anything you might need while the team was away, he said there was plenty of food in the fridge, but that you were waiting on a clothing order.” She gestured to the bags she’d brought. “Figured these could help tide you over.”

I fucking hated being a charity case. Even worse, I hated that I’d put myself in this position.

Aiden was a walking red flag, and I should have seen him coming a mile away. First, when he love-bombed me. Then, when he isolated me from my friends and colleagues. And finally, when he convinced me to quit my job and move in with him. But it had felt so damn nice to have someone borderline obsessed with me that I excused his problematic behavior.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“Bridget?” Arizona prompted, bringing me back to the present.

“Sorry.” I shook my head, as if that would be enough to erase the bad memories permanently imprinted on my brain. “You really shouldn’t have. I’m not planning to leave the house.” Correction: I couldn’t leave the house, not if I didn’t want Aiden to find me.

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” she insisted. “My sponsor volunteers at a women’s shelter, and they have extra clothing on hand for their residents. When I explained to her that I knew someone who’d gotten out of a bad situation with absolutely nothing, she was more than happy to let me raid their wardrobe reserves.”

How could I refuse when, if circumstances were different, I might’ve sought refuge in a shelter like the one she described?

“That was really nice of you. And her.”

“It’s not any more than someone once did for me. So, I’m just doing what I can to pay it forward.”

My ears perked up at that. Was this perfectly put-together woman saying that she’d been in my shoes? If so, maybe there was hope that I could make it out on the other side and reclaim my life.

Suddenly, I saw Arizona through new eyes, and she became my source of inspiration.

“Thank you. Truly.”

She peeked down at the watch affixed to her left wrist. “I’ve got a showing in half an hour, so I’d better get going, but you have my number. Call if you need anything at all. Even if you just need someone to talk to.”

I’d been deprived of human connection for so long that the simple offer of companionship brought tears to my eyes.

Sniffling, I managed a weak nod, and she gave my hand a gentle squeeze on her way out the door.

For the first time, I saw the first glimmers of light at the end of the tunnel. If only I could find a way to race there faster.

The minute the sun went down, my anxiety shot through the roof.

Every shadow or brush of a palm tree against the side of the house made me jump out of my skin, and before long, I was curled up in the fetal position under the covers in bed, shaking so badly that my muscles ached.

The Surf had traveled to San Francisco for a single away game. If I couldn’t handle one night alone without teetering on the verge of a panic attack, I was doomed when they had longer stretches on the road.

With my cell phone held tightly to my chest above where my heart hammered against my ribcage, I desperately wanted to call Cole, to hear his deep voice reassure me that I was safe. But I knew if I did, he would feel guilty for leaving me, and that was the last thing I wanted. Showing up unannounced and begging him to take me in had disrupted his life enough. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if dragging him into my mess made him distracted on the ice, leading to an injury or worse.