Page 90 of Yours, Unexpectedly

Scanning the key card, I rush into the hotel room and find Bex sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for me. The immense relief I feel to see her quickly fades when I take in the look of pure devastation on her face.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers, fresh tears welling in her eyes.

I drop to my knees before her and reach up to wipe them away. She flinches and my heart shatters, but I immediately pull my hand back. “Don’t be. Are you okay? What happened?”

She shakes her head and a single tear falls down her cheek, navigating a path through the tiny freckles dotted across it.

“No you aren’t okay? Talk to me, baby. Please. What’s going on?” I’m prepared to call the police right now on that fucker, but I want to make sure she’s okay first.

She pulls in a shuddering breath through her mouth. “Physically, I’m—I’m fine. He tried to…” She trails off and I’m trying to be a patient man, I really am, but I need to know what happened like I need my next breath.

“He tried to what?” I try to keep my voice calm. I want to touch her, to comfort her, but based on her reaction a moment ago, I don’t think she’s ready for that.

“I don’t really know. He pulled me close and threatened your career. His hands were on me and it felt so…” Her breath hitches. “I felt so violated. I had to…” She stops and shakes her head. “I’m so sorry I missed the showcase,” she murmurs.

“Please stop apologizing. I’m the one who is sorry. We need to report him. We should get a restraining order.” I’m in fix-it mode. I need to make this better for her.

“No. No, I…”

Shock fills me. “No? He can’t get away with this, Bex. We need to do something.”

“I need time. I need to process what the hell happened tonight. I’m… I just want what’s best for you. I don’t want to stand in the way of that.”

“Don’t listen to anything he said, baby,” I plead. “He doesn’t have a leg to stand on. I don’t want his money or his influence—you know that. He knows that too, and he’s doing everything in his power to get to me in any way he can. He knew I would do anything to protect you, that’s why he came after you tonight, but I won’t let it happen again. I made sure he knows that.” The tips of my fingers tingle with the need to feel her skin against mine.

She looks down and sees the fresh bruises blooming across my knuckles, her eyes widening as she takes them in. “What did you do?”

“I took care of it, okay?”

“No. No, it’s not okay. This is getting really messy. I’m messing everything up for you,” she replies.

“Of course it’s messy!” I’m emphatic now. “We are human beings and life is inherently messy. We can choose to be messy together or do it on our own. And I want to be messy with you. You are worth it. This is worth it.” I gesture between the two of us.

She looks down at her hands—she hasn’t stopped wringing them since I got here. “I need time,” she repeats, whispering again.

I exhale and run my hands up and down my thighs. I search her face, looking for any sign, any hint of something that might help her. “Okay. Yeah, we can take some time. Let’s go to bed and we can talk more in the morning.”

She stands and moves around where I am kneeling before her, heading toward the door. I turn my head, my gaze following her, and realize her bag is fully packed—something I missed in my frantic entrance. My heart sinks.

She’s leaving.

“How much time do you need, exactly?”

Sadness echoes in each word she speaks. “I’m going to go stay with my parents for the night and head back home tomorrow.”

As much as I try to fight it, my voice breaks with my next question. “Are you… are you breaking up with me?”

She’s next to me instantly, her forehead pressed against mine as tears stream down both of our cheeks.

“No, Anders. No, I just… I need to clear my head. I’m being selfish—I know I’m being selfish, and I’m so, so sorry,” she sobs.

I move my head back and forth, breathing her in. “You’ll come back to me when you’re ready, right?” I can feel her nod. “Okay. I can give you time.” I cradle her face in both hands. “I love you. This is not what I want. I want to be here with you… for you.”

“I know,” she mutters before giving me a kiss that feels suspiciously like goodbye. “I love you too, Anders.”

And then she gets up and walks out, leaving me lost and alone on the floor of a shitty hotel room.

Later that night, I remember the bag my father shoved at me right before I punched him. I find it by the front door and pull a card out. Bex’s dainty handwriting is scrawled across the front of the envelope. I trace my hand over it, missing her already, the feeling of loss intensifying. I open the envelope and pull out a card. The front has a picture of a carrot and a radish with the words, “We’re rooting for you!” in bold letters at the bottom. It makes me want to laugh as much as it makes me want to cry. The inside is filled top to bottom with Bex’s words.

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