Love's Paradox

Chapter 9: Protect-o Guy

Parker stares at me, unblinking, as he absorbs my past, his solicitous expression letting me know that my story resonates with him. Reliving the next part of my past makes a lump form in my throat, and it takes me several seconds to steady my breathing. He doesn't rush me or ask questions, though I can see the pain in his eyes.

Finally, I say, "I'd parked the truck in the garage, which means I left the keys in the middle console. All I had to do was get to the garage."

I remember the panicked thoughts that had whipped through me, forcing my heart to gallop.

Ian had returned to our bedroom to unpack my box of clothes. I staggered to my feet and booked it down the hall, into the kitchen, past the laundry room, and into the garage. Ian's voice thundered behind me, and a frisson of terror ripped into me. He was close, but I was able to scramble inside the truck and lock the doors before he could reach me. I felt safe at once. I fiddled for the keys, shoved them into the ignition, and pressed the garage door open.

Ian pounded against the windows, a mix of fury and utter desolation etched into his face. I threw the truck in reverse, waiting for the garage door to open all the way. In an insane attempt to keep me there, Ian jumped into the truck bed.

"Please," he cried, leaning over the side.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" I bellowed, rolling down the window just enough for him to hear me. "Get off the truck."

"You can't leave me," he whined, tears reddening his eyes.

He had some nerve. "I just need some time. Alone."

"No. You'll never come back."

"Yes I will. All my stuff's here, you idiot." It was the truth, but not in the context he was thinking.

"I'm not getting out of this truck until you come back inside," he said stubbornly. He wasn't lying, and he knew I knew it.

If I left, he'd be coming along with me, and I wasn't going to try to fling him from the truck, though the idea was quite appealing at the time. For whatever reason, I was still convinced he wouldn't physically hurt me, regardless of the earlier tackle. Maybe we could talk it out and he'd finally let me go.

I turned off the truck and came out. Every time I think about what happened that day, I wish I would have booked it out of there. But I'd been foolish.

"You have to let me go," I said.

"Come on, Rae. Quit wallowing." He pried the truck keys from my hand. The garage door clanged shut, ringing through my ears with finality.

"Come back inside," he ordered. "We can talk about this."

Finally, I thought, maybe he'll see reason. I was injudicious. Naïve.

"I don't want to marry you anymore," I said as we entered the kitchen. "This is over; I don't love you anymore. You need to let me go."

"You don't mean that," he said, dismissing me in the next second. "I'm a bit hungry. What do you want for dinner?"

I gaped at him. He was delusional. "I need time alone," I said, knowing that if I didn't get space soon, he'd whittle me down to nothing.

"No. What you need to do is talk to me. We can work this out."

Ian was one of those people that hated being alone. No matter where I was in the house, he had to be in the same room. It annoyed the shit out of me. The only time I got any peace was when I went to the bathroom, and even then he seemed to time it. "What took you so long?" he'd ask, which was beyond creepy and just a tad disturbing that he was so interested in my bowel movements.