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I ignored him.
“Frannie, come see who’s here.”
You can do this, Frances. You can talk to him.
I slowly slid my shoes off and turned the corner toward our living room. Next to my brother on the couch sat the man who had made my late teens and early twenties a nightmare. Him. My ex-boyfriend, Chris.
“Hey, Frannie,” he said, rising from the couch. Instinctively, I took a step back and he frowned.
I hadn’t seen Chris in three years, not since I’d caught him cheating and finally left him. He had tried calling to explain that the half-naked woman on his couch was just a friend, but I’d finally had enough of Chris. He didn’t argue much about it after that call. It seemed like he’d found someone better.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, controlling the cadence of my voice. My family only knew we had broken up, nothing else.
“I came to see you, Frannie,” he said, moving closer to me.
“Well, I don’t want to see you,” I said in a low voice and crossed my arms. I wanted to shield myself from him and how small he had made me feel.
Tilting his head toward my brother, Chris said, “Maybe we can go up to your room so we can talk in private.”
I shook my head. Marco was eight years younger, but I still felt better having him next to me. I didn’t trust Chris at all.
“Come on, baby,” he said.
“Don’t call me that,” I whispered, and when he stepped closer to me, my lungs emptied. Pivoting toward the front door, I opened it, hoping to get some air. Instead, standing in front of me with his hand raised in a fist, prepared to knock, was Colton.
I sucked in a deep breath and covered my mouth. “What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk, Frances,” he said. “May I come in?”
“Who’s this guy?” asked Chris in a hard voice, coming up behind me. His anger had the usual effect, and a wave of nausea overtook me for a second.
“Are you all right?” asked Colton, watching me carefully.
“I’m fine,” I said. Then, closing my eyes and hardening my voice, I added, “Chris, I want you to leave. Now.” I opened the door wider and stood behind it. Colton didn’t move. His eyes assessed Chris and they narrowed.
“Who is this, Frances?” asked Colton.
“None of your concern,” I said.
“Who the fuck are you?” snarled Chris.
Colton stepped inside and looked down at Chris. He was taller by at least three inches. “She asked you to leave. I suggest you go before I show you out myself. And I don’t ask as nicely as she does.”
Chris measured Colton, his eyes scanning his body, and must have figured he’d lose this fight. Despite his bravado, Chris had always been a coward.
Putting his hand on my waist, Chris whispered close to my ear, “I’ll see you soon, Frannie,” and shoved Colton on his way out the door.
Waiting for the wave of nausea to waft through me, I exhaled a sigh of relief when his beat-up truck finally pulled out of my driveway. Colton stared after him as well and didn’t face me until we could no longer see the vehicle.
“Want to tell me what that was about?” he asked.
“Not really,” I said. “What do you want, Colton?” Because I didn’t have the energy to deal with him right now. My body drained of its adrenaline, I just wanted to curl up and sleep.
“We need to talk. I need a few minutes of your time. You owe me that.”
Exhausted, I responded, holding nothing back. “I owed you an explanation weeks ago but you didn’t care to hear one.”
“Fine. How about giving me ten minutes of your time for not calling the police and reporting you for identity fraud?”
