Page 13 of Hush Money
“How do you know?” I ask him. “How do you know you didn’t just catch us on a bad night?”
He cocks his head and takes a step toward me.
“Did I?” he asks simply. “Do you normally send out distress signals on your ‘bad nights’?” I swallow. The truth is, no. Because I never had anyone around that I thought might actually answer them.
I don’t answer him. I just bite my bottom lip. He takes another step toward me.
“Is it like that a lot, Evie?” he asks. I swallow again. I wish I could say no. But he’d know I was lying. I nod slowly. “Has he…”He pauses for a moment, draws in a breath, then lifts his eyes to me. “Has he hurt you?” he asks through gritted teeth.
I shake my head no slowly.
“No,” I say.
A see a flash of relief wash over his face.
“But you’ve thought he might?” he asks. I pick up a lock of my hair and begin to twirl it. Then I nod. He steps closer to me and takes my hand. He brings it to his lips. “That’s too much, Eve. Too close.”
I swallow.
I know he’s right.
I know this is too much.
I know that whatever there is between Tanner and me, it hasn’t resembled love in a very long time.
I know that the last time I tried to initiate sex, he drunkenly told me that I had gotten a little “soft around the middle” before he passed out.
I haven’t tried since.
That was ten months ago.
I know that I take more and more shifts at the diner each month so that I can be home less. I know that, for the past year, when our friends have asked us to get together, we have both made up numerous excuses.
I know that the numerous times I asked him to go to couples therapy, he spat on the idea and told me that was “crazy-people shit.”
And I know that I feel happiest when I’m alone and the most tense when I’m with him.
And I know that, over the last few months, I have started to feelscaredin my own home. My mind has wondered about how far he might go the next time.
Too much.
I feel my eyes burning, and when I lift them to Keaton, the tears flow out of them. He takes the last few steps toward me and pulls me into him again. And then I let myself cry again. I don't know for how long, but he doesn’t seem to care. When I finally pull myself out of it, I wipe my eyes and look up at him.
“Okay,” I finally say.
He raises an eyebrow.
“Okay?” he asks. I nod. He squeezes my shoulders. “Does your, uh…family know what’s
been going on?”
My eyes grow wide as the reality of this decision I’m making sets in. I walk slowly toward the couch again, slapping a hand to my face.
“Oh, god,” I say. “My family. His family. My shit…fuck.”
He follows me back to the couch, sitting on the coffee table in front of me.
“Don’t worry about your family,” he says. He knows about my family. He knows they were nothing but stress for me as a kid and a young adult. He knows that I could never lean on them, and that hasn’t changed. “You will stay here. For as long as you want. Okay?”
