Page 37 of No Turning Back
His shoulders shake as he laughs, mesmerizing me all over again. “You still hate manual labour, huh?”
I shrug. “There’s a reason I prefer working in an office.”
He leads me around the kitchen toward the back of the house. “You’re gonna love it here.”
I think I will too. That night, when Sam offers to fix up my “room” so I can stay, I don’t hesitate. I love the quiet that settles in after dinner, the wide Texas sky melting into shades of rose and indigo, the steady rhythm of days that feel less like running and more like arriving. For the first time in months, I fall asleep without waking in the dark, heart racing.
A week later, Kate leans against the doorway while I pack up the guest room. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”
“Wait till you see this place, oh God, Kate, it’s so beautiful,” I gush. “The second I saw it, it was like-” I snap my fingers. “There’s this huge stretch of land around the house, and Sam showed me the grounds, and I could just picture maybe having a little garden in the back… maybe even getting a rescue.”
Kate narrows her eyes. “I thought it was just until the divorce.”
“It is,” I say, a little deflated. “But judging by the angry voicemail from Markus when he got the papers, it’s not gonna be quick.”
“He was pissed?” she asks.
I nod. “Like, toddler-throwing-a-tantrum pissed. I honestly don’t get the logic where he thought there was even the slightest possibility I’d stay.”
She rolls her eyes, walking towards the other side of the bed and fiddling with the handle. “Hate to say it, but he probably thought you’d stay ’cause I stayed.”
I freeze mid-pack. “What the fuck?”
She keeps fussing with the bag she’s been pretending to organize.
“Hey,” I say, taking a seat beside mine on the bed. “What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Kaaate.”
She blinks like she just came back from somewhere far away. “What? Oh, nothing.”
I just give her a look and wait.
Finally, she exhales. “It’s just… Aiden and I, we’re kind of in this weird place.”
I tilt my head, surprised. How did I miss that?
She drops the act of adjusting the bag and stays standing, arms crossed. “We went to this PTA thing at the kids’ school-”
I grimace. “Gross.”
“I know. We couldn’t get out of it. So, we’re standing there, chatting, and some mom starts complaining her son has this girlfriend now and won’t spend time with the family. Totally normal mom stuff. But then her drunk husband chimes in and goes, ‘She’s just the first girl to touch his dick. He’ll forget about her soon.’”
My eyebrows jump. “Wow.”
She holds up a finger. “Right. And it gets worse. Aiden casually mentions we’re high school sweethearts, and the drunk guy goes, ‘Oh, so she’s the only woman that’s ever touched your dick?’”
I wince. “Oh no…”
“Yeah,” she says, “and Aiden laughed it off like whatever. But I guess… I didn’t.”
There’s a beat of quiet between us.
“He can’t really blame you,” I say slowly, trying to follow where this is going.
“He doesn’t,” she says, finally sitting on the bed beside me. “It’s just… I know I chose to forgive him, and I don’t regret it. But I just… don’t like the reminder.”
