Page 52 of Hate It with You

Not to mention the fact that he could deem me “not worth the trouble.”

Other than Sienna and Benny, he’s never let me have anyone else. Afraid that my happiness would ruin his perfect version of a family, always wanting me to fall back into the shadows, using me as a punching bag when his life didn’t go the way he planned.

Sienna and Benny were all I was allowed to have. They were the only ones willing to stick around and deal with my circumstances. The only ones kept safe from the same abuse I experienced.

The fucker was always too afraid of Sienna’s dad to ever show her his anger, and Benny… Well, Benny is his son, his perfect boy, his blood. He always liked to remind me of that last fact. No, he’d never hurt Benny, not in the way that he hurt me at least.

Frank won’t leave me alone as long as he believes I’m happy. The moment I put my stepfather away in prison five years ago was the first moment I’ve felt peace. Now he’s out and back to steal that away from me again.

My mind races with flashbacks of my childhood, of my years as a teenager, as my heart rate continues to rise, still holding the note in my hand. The memories serve as a reminder of how far he’d go to hurt me. How he’d hurt Alex without hesitation if it meant getting to me.

I can’t expose Alex to this. I can’t put him at risk. I can’t let him in.

“What’s that?” Alex’s voice startles me. I jump at his proximity, only inches behind me as he looks over my shoulder, the bag of books crinkling in his hands as his grip tightens.

I turn around to face him, my back now to the door, folding the note and bringing it to my side in an attempt to hide the words scrawled across the paper.

Although looking into Alex’s eyes, I can tell he read every word on the piece of paper. An anger like no other burns in his irises, his jaw ticking, and his breath becoming more erratic at the same rate my heartbeat rises.

“It’s nothing,” I say flippantly, trying my best to hide the shake in my voice. I didn’t mean to bring him into this. This is the exact opposite of what I was aiming for.

“What’s going on, Beth? Who put that on your door?” The question comes out stern, but not loud. He knows I’m hiding something from him, his desperation palpable as he waits for me to give him the truth.

If I tell him now, Frank will be relentless, as angry as the day he was when he was shoved into the back of the police car. No, if Alex gets hurt because of me, I’d never forgive myself. Alex may never forgive me.

“Just a package delivery reminder, looks like I’ll have to make a trip to the post office tomorrow.” I try to lighten my tone the best I can despite the way this lie is tearing me in two on the inside.

Alex stares at me, his eyes wandering mine, searching for an answer I refuse to give him.

He nods lightly. “Why don’t I cook us some steaks and you can tell me all about the package that’s so important they couldn’t leave it at your doorstep?” He nods his head toward his apartment door, gently calling my bluff.

A voice inside my head continues to scream at me as my body tears itself apart when I give my response. “I’m actually pretty tired. I think I’ll turn in for the night.” I place my hand on my doorknob, averting my gaze, unable to look him in the eye.

I don’t miss the pained sigh he releases when he says, “Right… Well, have a good night, Beth. I’ll see you in the morning for training.”

He turns his back to me, walking toward his door. I’m barely able to release the words from my lips when I say, “Have a good night, Alex.” Before the rustle of his keys can travel down the hallway, I’m inside my apartment, locking the door behind me.

When I finally lay down for bed, my eyes drift closed, with tears streaming down my face, and my heart as hollow as my stomach.

21

BETH

The note lies heavy in my hand as I sit on one of three thrifted chairs at the round table in my dining room. I bought the furniture from nearby thrift stores whenever I had a spare moment over the last few weeks as I work to finally furnish my apartment.

Though I’m not sure a small dining table, a reading chair in the living room, and a couple of barstools constitute a furnished apartment. Not to mention I’ve still only unpacked about half of my boxes.

Looking down at the small pile of notes on the table in front of me, I contemplate whether or not it’s worth unpacking in the first place. Even if the place is starting to grow on me, it’s not a sustainable long-term solution for me to stay here.

A strong knock on my front door has me jumping out of my seat. My brain works overtime to calm my shocked nervous system, reminding me that it’s only Alex, grabbing me for our next training session.

I slip the pile of notes under one of the many books lying out on the dining room table before making my way to the door. Narrowly avoiding tripping over a pair of my boots on my way as I grab a sweatshirt off an unpacked box.

A pang of tightness hits my chest when I open the door, and I’m met with Alex’s grin. He holds out his hand, a warm cup of tea from the place down the street waiting for me. I’m not sure when he learned it, but he somehow knows my morning tea order. No doubt flirting his way into that knowledge.

The thought of him flirting with anyone else makes my stomach churn.

Taking a sip, I let the warm liquid calm me from the inside before my eyes snag on the box he’s holding. Pointing, I ask, “What’s that?”