Page 6 of Love in Pieces

?CHAPTER 3

Abby

The low rumble of mymotorcycle signals the end of another workday. I pull my helmet over the loose braid down my back and situate my backpack around my shoulders. I still cannot fathom how I will spend my time without this job after only one more week. Free time has been a foreign concept to me since starting college. I’m sure Sam has ideas even though he hasn’t shared those with me. I bet it has something to do with being a stereotypical housewife. That’s not what I had in mind when I started college.

Literature and writing have consumed me since I was a kid. My parents used to joke about how many books I’d go through in a week. I started writing fanfiction when I was in middle school about characters in the books we had to read for school. It kept things interesting enough for me to care about my other classes.

This semester’s classes have been a little dull on the writing side of things. I’ve kept myself sane by starting my own short story. More for fun than anything, but it helps pass the time.

“How was work?” Sam asks before I fully step through the front door of our apartment. His shoulder-length blonde hair sits loose by his face instead of up in its usual bun.

“It was fine. I started saying goodbye to a few coworkers since I won’t work with them over the next week.” I set my backpack on the brown slatted bench lining the wall between the front door and the kitchen. Light casts shadows through it onto the cream tile at my feet.

“Fuck, Abby! It’s not like you’re never going to see them again,” he snaps.

Great. Not exactly how I wanted to start the evening.

“I know. I’m sorry. I can always hang out with them outside of work.” Except I won’t. I know I won’t.

“Yeah. Speaking of work. Two things. One, have you talked to your TA professor yet?”

I’ve been Dr. Kraus’s TA for a year and Sam still hasn’t taken the time to learn his name. “His name is Dr. Kraus, and no, I haven’t. I’m still not sure I want to quit that one.” I avert my eyes from his downturned brows, but he’s hard to ignore when his radiating anger floods the room. “I really like the job, and it looks really good on a resume.”

“Abby, I already told you. I make enough for both of us. You won’t need to work for the rest of your life, especially with my new position.”

“I don’t want to quit, Sam!” I yell, immediately regretting the words that spilled from my mouth. I can usually filter myself pretty well, but sometimes, the words come out like a raging bull. Heat floods my cheeks as the shame eats at me. I look away to hide my worry-stricken face.

He stands from his barstool, setting his glass of water on the counter. I shrink in place, the bench beneath me not offering an ounce of security.

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me.” Those words are eerily calm. “I work hard to care and provide for you. What do you plan on doing with an English degree? Become the next Shakespeare? The next Stephen King? I don’t think so. I’m saving you from heartbreak. You should be grateful. We’re done having this conversation. Quit the job and move on.”

He stands in front of me, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his clean-shaven jaw. I look up to meet the fury in his blue eyes. I used to love looking into those eyes. They used to calm my nerves. I used to see the ocean in them. Now, I see empty promises and white-hot rage. Now, they bring heartache. My hands grip the edge of the bench, knuckles white from the tension. I take a deep breath and drop my gaze to the floor, caving to his demand.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. I understand what you’re saying. I’ll talk to Dr. Kraus tomorrow and let him know that I’ll be done after this semester.”

Once Sam makes up his mind, there is no changing it. No reasoning with him. He won’t negotiate. The pounding of my heart slows as he moves back to his seat at the counter. I don’t dare move from the bench in case I disturb the calm that has somehow kept his fist from my flesh.

“Now, back to what else I wanted to talk to you about.” He pauses to take a long sip of his water as if our fight wore him out. “I leave for a business trip for some additional training in a few weeks. I’ll be gone for two weeks. You can’t come with me. I already asked. Besides, after that little performance,” he eyes me up and down, “I think a little time apart may be beneficial. I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t trust my opinions. So, keep up the act if that’s the route you want to continue down.”

Ouch. But I can’t say I don’t agree with needing time apart. My heart flutters a little at the thought of having two weeks of almost freedom. That’s the key word, though, isn’t it?Almost.Aside from the location app, he’ll probably tell all his friends to keep an eye on me. They either don’t see the abuse, or they don’t care. Either way, I’ll still be trapped.

“I trust you’ll be able to take care of yourself while I’m gone?”

I nod, unsure of where to go from here. So, I risk it. “I’m going to take the bike out for a bit. I could use a little wind therapy.”

“Fine. Just keep your location on,” he says, not bothering to look up from his phone.

“Always do.” I grab my helmet from the hook and head back out the door.

“Oh, one more thing. There’s a bike meet next Saturday. We’re going. Since your last day of work is the day before, it’ll be a good way to celebrate. The usual group will be joining.”

Celebrate? I’m not sure I want to celebrate my last day of work. But one good thing about Sam? He rides, too. That’s one of the things we bonded over until it turned into me tagging along like a lost puppy whether I want to or not. Sam’s more of a “show off my bike to anyone willing” kind of rider than a casual “enjoy the miles” kind of rider. Still, it provides a little bit of peace even when I’m in his presence. But sometimes, that’s the only way I get any by myself.

“Okay.” When he doesn’t say anything further, I hurry out the door.

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