*** trigger warning: contains violence against women ***

*Jordan

It seems almost pointless to go on with my day as if nothing was different. The world was a new place and I was no longer the prisoner of my past, stuck in the same place, repeating the same, lonely days. I was going to leave. I was going to be free and with Cole. But I ran a few errands to pick up necessities and get extra materials, and a research book for my work with the kids at the Center.

The kids. I loved those babies, and they need me. I'm going to have to hand in my notice, though, and say goodbye. I tell myself they'll be just fine. They'll hire another worker who will be great.

I thump the heavy book in my hand and then hand it to the lady at the cash register. There will be other kids who need someone like me wherever I'm going next. With Cole.

I will have to sell the house. If Cole wants to leave soon, I'll have to sell it as is, which will bring the price way down. It needs work, and no one will want to deal with the old furniture. I'll have to figure out how to set up a forwarding address.

And what about Reese and Amber? A cold stone settles in my gut. I don't even have addresses for them—just emails neither has answered for years.

My last memory of Reese is the two of us standing on the porch. I ask her again about the day our father died. She doesn't answer. She won't even look at me. She doesn't even say goodbye as she walks off.

I leave the store and climb in my car and close my eyes. I don't even know how to contact my sisters to tell them I won't be here if they ever come home.

And Emma. My baby. This was the home she knew. This town and the house was where she was born, and I'm cutting myself out of it.

I make another stop at the hardware store to check prices on paint for the porch and wallpaper in the kitchen, the areas that could use the most spit and shine. I wind up spending way too much time debating between cashmere blue and apple green for an accent wall in the breakfast nook, and finally leave with an armful of rolls of wallpaper in faded paisley for the upstairs bathroom and green for the nook.

I'm almost home before I realize I've forgot the paste and should have taken the cashmere blue for the kitchen. The green would be strange with the backdrop of the forest through the bay windows.

Slapping my forehead mentally, I load up on all my bags and slam my car door with my foot. I can stop by the store on my way home tomorrow. I hear someone tinkering with the Ford in the car port, which is strange because I don't see a car. Cole must have parked his camper in the back of the house, as I suggested when he left.

I skip to the open archway, ready to sneak up on him.

There's a man hunkered down in the driver's seat, a wrench in the hand propped on the steering wheel. It's not Cole. I step back, hand diving for my phone in my purse and he lifts his head.

"Hey, Jordan," Brandon says. I'm rooted to the spot, every muscle tensed, but frozen. "Can we talk a minute?"

"Why are you in my car?"

"Garage door was open."

"There is no door. It's a carport."

"It's a joke, Jordan. Whatever happened to your sense of humor? You used to be fun to hang out with." He slides from the car like a spider and swaggers towards me. I want to run. I want to call the cops or Cole to come and save me, but I can't move.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Your new boyfriend, of course. Since you and I are old friends, going way back, I wanted to clue you in to a few things. To warn you."

I shake my head. "I'm an adult, Brandon. I make up my own mind about people."

"Like you made up your mind to marry Trey and have his baby? How'd that turn out for you?"

"You need to leave now."

"Wait, I didn't mean it like that." He walks up, wrench swaying in one hand, but he raises the other to touch my shoulder. I flinch, but he doesn't stop. He slowly caresses my arm, down to the bags hanging off my wrist. He takes my clenched fist, loosening it.

I'm sick with fear. I want him to go. All I can think of are all the other times when my father would get too close, or Trey would be sweet after hitting me. I could never run.

"Jordan, I should have been there for you when Trey was sniffing at your heels. I knew he was an asshole, but he was my friend. I always thought you were so fucking beautiful and that he didn't deserve you. I knew he didn't deserve you. I should have warned you then, so I'm trying to make up for it now. I was over at Javier's, having a beer and Cole showed up. He bragged about screwing you and then when he heard I have a weekend lined up at the lake, he offered to hire the guys a night with a bunch of hookers, and join us there."

"I really think you should leave now." He's lying, I know he's lying. But he wants something from me that I won't give. If trying to sweettalk me doesn't work, he could get ugly.

"I can't, Jordan. I have to tell you how I feel."

No, no, no. He moves in for a kiss. I suck in air through my teeth and force myself to step back. Anger flickers across his face, warping his features, but disappears almost instantly. "You have to believe me about Cole, baby. He's bad news for you."

"If you knew that Trey was such an asshole, but never told me, then why were you so quick to believe him when he accused me of beating my daughter? Why did you tell everyone there must have been a good reason for him to kidnap her after he left?"

He crosses his arms, wrench still in hand, and throws his head back to stare down at me. "You really don't get it, do you?"

"No, I don't. Explain it to me."

"I'm your one true ally in this town." Blood flows from my head, and I am faint. Does he know where Trey is? What if I could convince him to tell me? What price would he ask and would I pay it?

With a sickening rending in my stomach, I know the answers to the questions already. Whatever he wants—however many nights he wants, if he can tell me where my daughter is, I'll give it to him. And lose Cole forever. A chasm opens in my soul and I feel myself teetering on the edge.

"How are you my ally against Trey?" I ask.

"When this whole town turned against him, me included, I sacrificed myself to try and help you."

My lip curls on its own. I was wrong to think he knows anything. He's completely deranged. "That's not how I remember it. You have always been his friend. You talked trash about me up and down the streets to anyone who would listen to you about how badly I treated him. You told people he had to run off with Emma to save her. That I—" Rage takes over and I can't think straight or speak.

"That you were abusing her?" He finishes for me. "Hitting her with wooden spoons?"

I shove him. I drop the bags on the ground and shove him with all my strength. He stumbles backwards, and with a huff of anger, recovers and grabs my arms.

"Stop!" he yells and spittle flies in my face. "I told you, I'm on your side."

"Get off my property. Go!" I struggle, but he doesn't let go of me. My heart is pounding.

"Listen to me, Jordan. Stop fighting. We weren't friends. He was pissed at me from a job opportunity that went bad and he blamed me. We weren't friends when the thing with your daughter blew up."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

He tightens his grip and pulls me up to his face. I have to look at him. I have to smell him and breathe the same air as him. I'm going to be sick. "Trey and I fought a few months before he took off. We weren't friends. But as soon as he started talking bad about you, I knew I had to help you. So I did the only thing I could think of, and that was to try and get on his good side again. So I would know the truth and what he was planning. Then he kidnapped her. I told everyone he was such a great guy. I sent him messages on the burner phone he had, emails. I agreed with everything he had ever said."

"You fucking asshole!"

"No, so he would contact me. I wanted to help you. I wanted him to think I was his friend, that way he would trust me and I could turn him in. For you, Jordan. It was all for you."

"You're lying."

"I'm not lying." He twists my arms tighter and then suddenly, as if realizing he was hurting me, he lets go. I jump back. But I don't run. "I'm not lying to you, Jordan. I love you. I've always loved you."

"You played a game to get information from him?" I ask, ignoring his declaration of love.

"Aren't you listening to me?" He rubs his forehead clear of sweat and shakes his head, incredulous. "I fucking love you, Jordan. I'd do anything for you"

"Did you get any information about Trey and where he is?" I insist.

"Is that all that matters to you?"

"No, it's not all that matters, but I need to know. Do you know where he is or how to find him, right now?"

"If I did, I would have told you. You should be mine, Jordan, not some loser's who shows up from out of nowhere, who never lifted a finger or got dirt on his name for you."

I cross my arms. My heart is still pounding, and he seems nervous. Like he could pounce or try something, but I'm desperate for anything he can give me about Trey or what happened three years ago. "What was the job?"

"What?"

"The job that you and Trey fought about. What was it?"

"Jordan, I..." he stares at me, new sweat beading his forehead and upper lip. He takes a quick step forward to grab me around the waist. I push him back, but he doesn't budge. "Cole doesn't care about you. He's booking a bunch of hookers this weekend. If you were my girl, I'd stay with you every night, fucking only you."

Fear lances through me. He sniffs my hair and licks his lips. "I can get your daughter back for you. Say you'll be my girl." He forces his mouth on mine. His tongue slides between my teeth.

The trade. He wants the trade that I was so afraid of. If I sleep with him, he'll help me find Trey. If it's true he could help me.... It's just sex, I tell myself as he invades my mouth.

I gag, sick with fear and disgust. I stick my thumbs in his eyes and push him off me. He yells in pain and twists free. I'm not ready for the punch to my gut and it knocks the wind from my lungs.

I fall to my knees, heaving for air. I raise a hand, to ward off the next attack. Trey would only hit me until I went down and begged him to stop. Old habits die hard.

"Stop," I gasp. "Please."

"Stupid bitch!" He kicks the ground, showering me with gravel and dust. He dances around me, cackling. "I had you for a minute there, didn't I? You actually believed I was on your side, admit it. As if. I wish I did know where he went, just so I could have the pleasure of not telling you." He jeers, kicking more gravel at me, but I'm frozen. My instincts have taken over.

He grabs my hair, fist raised.

*** Thank you for reading. Abuse against others is always wrong. Please reach out to someone in a position of authority if you are in an abusive environment! ***