The limbo I’ve found myself in is becoming increasingly uncomfortable.
I trust Eric, Chase, and Wyatt. I trust them with my life. I trust them with my children and our future together. There’s nothing I want more than to be with them, to try our own version of happily ever after.
But everything hangs in a sketchy balance.
I’m pregnant, and I’ve yet to replace the courage to tell them. The threat of Colby still looms over our heads—bigger and uglier—now that we know he’s likely connected to the warehouse attack, too. Harriet wants her day in court, but the guys don’t think she’s got a leg left to stand on. I still worry, though. I know how resourceful that woman can be, especially when she is hell bent on taking my children away from me.
In the middle of this shit storm, I’m supposed to keep a level head. To fight for my future. To manage my emotions, my children, my day-to-day life. How the hell am I going to do that when I’m constantly looking over my shoulder, terrified that Colby will replace a way to get close to me again, to finish what he started the night of the diner fire?
I know he’s close. I can almost feel him breathing down my neck. He is relentless. Like a predator that has caught the scent of blood, he will not rest until he destroys me in order to prove that I’m nothing without him. It’s what he does. It’s what he’s always done.
He never cared about me. He never cared about our children, either. I was lying to myself, constantly trying to rationalize sticking it out for another day, another week, another month until maybe, just maybe, Colby might go back to being the man he made himself out to be in the beginning of our relationship.
At least I have my job to keep me sane. The guys take me to and from work and one of them always handles the kids’ daily transportation. We’ve got eyes on the daycare and units ready to intervene at the house if Colby or any of his men try something.
We’re doing the best we can in a seemingly impossible situation. Something’s got to give. That bastard needs to slip up already because I’m growing tired. I could run away again but what would it solve?
Nothing.
“He’d replace me,” I mutter to myself as I peruse the produce department at the local supermarket. It’s late in the afternoon, and I want to cook something good and healthy for my men. The kids are staying with Marie and Steve tonight. Luna and Sammy already consider them their grandparents. They’re a good influence on my babies. I want my kids to grow up feeling safe and loved, not worried that their dad’s going to come in and ruin everything. “Ah, there we go,” I say as I spot the fresh spinach.
The more I think about dinner, the hungrier I get.
I know I’m not supposed to be out and about without one of my guys with me but I want to surprise them with dinner once they get home. I don’t want to ask them to stop at the store and pick things up for me; I want to have everything ready when they walk through the door.
After I pay, I grab my bag and make my way down the street, our neighborhood just ahead beneath a red and orange sunset sky.
“Excuse me, miss, what’s the quickest way to get downtown?” a man asks, startling me.
I’m so deep in my thoughts that I don’t even look up until it’s too late.
It’s Colby. I recognize him but my body fails to react. I freeze.
“Colby, no!”
He pulls me down a small alley in between houses. I struggle and he slams me into the brick wall of one of them.
I drop down and swerve away from him. Within a second, I realize he is completely unhinged. A mad beast with nothing to lose and no sense left in his head whatsoever. He is furious and frustrated, panting as he approaches me with lightning speed. I’m done hiding and running away.
“Stay the fuck away from me!” I yell and jump back.
“I’m not done with you!” Colby snarls, his eyes bloodshot and his hair a sweaty mess. He comes at me again but my arm shoots out—fist closed and knuckles tightening with the impending impact.
Chase did say I have a mean left hook when he was teaching me some defensive moves not that long ago. He’s right. My punch hits Colby square in the jaw. It’s not enough to break anything, but it is definitely enough to ring his bell and confuse him.
“You bitch!” he cries out, dizzy and wobbling.
“I told you to stay the fuck away from me!”
I run as fast as I can, forgetting the groceries scattered all over the sidewalk, not caring about my torn blouse. I am wheezing and crying at the same time yet all I can do is run. Up the road. Left, right.
I need to get home before Colby catches up.
He knows where we live but there are cops stationed outside the house in a squad car, he’d be stupid to try anything there. I’m almost home. Images flash before my eyes as the Danson residence rises ahead. I glance back, feeling a sense of relief when I realize he’s not chasing me. But I don’t stop running.
“Ms. Harrison, are you alright?” one of the police officers asks as he steps out of the squad car upon seeing my approach.
“I’m anything but,” I reply and quickly explain what happened.
Without skipping a beat, he and his partner start the emergency protection procedure. One of them liaises with the police station through the radio while the other does a perimeter check, then an in-house sweep before escorting me inside, one hand glued to his holstered weapon. I’m inside and safely huddled by the living room window when two more black-and-white cars pull up. I don’t know who ordered the extra security, but I admit I feel better knowing they’re here.
Once I’m alone in the house and able to breathe again, the water works come rushing forward. I cry my heart out, thankful that I was able to hit Colby the way I did. My knuckles may be red and rapidly bruising, and my hand hurts like hell, but I don’t regret it. I defended myself. For the first time in my life, I stood up to the bully.
And I survived.
I thought that once he’d see there was a cop car stationed outside the house and the daycare, he’d back off. I’d hoped he’d be too busy dodging the law knowing they were looking for him. Clearly, I was wrong. Colby won’t stop until I’m dead or worse—back under his control. Except now the stakes are infinitely higher. There’s a baby growing in my womb, a baby that isn’t his. He can never know.
“I’m so tired,” I whisper, sinking into the sofa. “So fucking tired.”
It’s been the year from hell but at the same time, it’s been the most amazing year of my life. Had there not been flames, I would’ve never ended up here. From every tragedy, something great has emerged to give me hope.
I just have to hold onto it with both hands and refuse to let go.
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