Page 45 of From the Ashes
“No. God, no. It’s just…” She trails off, eyes dropping to her lap. Frustration pulls at her mouth as her grip tightens around her phone. “It messes with my head sometimes. The way he says things… It’s hard to stay focused on healing when he keeps coming back and stirring everything up.” Her voice cracks on the last word, and her shoulders jerk like she’s been struck by lightning. That fucking guy is disturbing her peace. And that sure as hell isn’t right.
“Do you need help?”
“To scare him away?” she asks, a brow raised on her beautiful, round face. I nod, jaw tight.
“Scare him off, talk to him, whatever you need. He has no right to keep harassing you,” I grunt, my voice lower now. “You’re my woman. And I can’t just sit here and watch while he gets in your head, not when you should be eating this damn plate of pasta without a single worry in the world.” She doesn’t say a word. Just looks at me with those deep, chocolate-brown eyes, wide, unreadable, and locked on mine.
“Did you say that I was…your woman?”
“I don’t kiss women lightly, Lana. To me, you’re mine,” I state blankly, even if I hope she understands how vulnerable I’m getting for her. That I’m hers too, if she wants me to be.
“Does it mean…that you are mine too?” Her lower lip trembles.
“Yes,” I assure her, resting my hand on hers, still clutching her phone on the table. The warmth of her skin sends sparks to my forearms, and my body answers for me with goosebumps. She blushes, this time with the right kind of pink.
Better.
“My offer is still on the table if you need me to take care of him. Nothing drastic, but yeah, you only need to say the word.”
“Thank you, that’s really kind of you to offer, but…” I can already tell she won’t accept my help. Lana’s on her own path, determined to face it alone. I get that. Still, I can’t help but think that, eventually, she’ll need people in her corner, someone to lean on, someone to have her back. I want to be that person in her corner. I want her to know she doesn’t have to carry everything alone. That accepting help doesn’t make her weaker.
“I’ll handle it,” she says quietly, but her fingers are shaking. Then, she takes her glass of water and drinks the whole thing in one shot.
Trembling hands.
Fleeting gaze.
That’s not good.
At least I’m not the reason she’s shaken. I’ll take that small comfort. But the thought of knowing that her ex is the one giving her sweats when she should be living in peace is making me see red. As much as I want to step in and take care of it, I have to respect her choice. She isn’t looking for a savior for now. Just someone who’ll stand by her side, and I won’t let her down by acting behind her back. A few minutes pass before her phone rings again. Glancing at it with furrowed brows, she looks back at me with a wince on her beautiful face.
“I’m really sorry, I…I have to take this,” she explains nervously. I nod as I watch her leave our table. I’m there for her,whether that’s silently supporting her through this or teaching her self-defense, or taking her hand in mine after coffee.
She’s mine and I’m hers.
That’s all I care about.
I’ll let her handle her ex as long as she wants. But if it ever gets too heavy, if it starts to crush her, I’ll take that weight off her shoulders and deal with him myself.
And I can be very persuasive.
LANA
The most handsome man I’ve ever seen, the one who’s been treating me like a princess and just casually declared I was his as much as he was mine, is sitting ten feet away while I answer Ben’s call, cheeks burning with shame for letting this man interrupt our date and not knowing how to make him leave without talking to him.
Ashamed for enduring his blows for years without fighting back.
Ashamed that even now, I’m letting him come between me and the most mysterious, kind man I’ve ever known.
I’m so ashamed, it feels like a thick coat of paint covering my skin, heavy, visible, impossible to peel off. Everyone can see it. It’s written all over my face. Shame. Five letters I can’t scrub away, no matter what I do.
Carter’s watching me like a bodyguard, his eyes scanning the room every now and then, like he’s always got my back, always making sure I’m safe. Only, the one threat he can’t protect me from is hissing through the speaker of my phone. I’m standing by the bathroom door, far enough not to bother other customers, but close enough to keep him in sight.
“Shit, Lana, it’s about time. I’ve been trying to call you for hours!” roars Ben, and I’m sure he’s running his hand in his hair right now. He always does that when he’s upset with me. “You aren’t picking up. It’s fucking annoying, Lana.” I want to tell him to go to hell. I really want to.
“I… I’m sorry, I was busy. I didn’t have my phone,” I mumble, sounding like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. How did I feel so strong, so fierce, just a minute ago with Carter…and now? Now I feel like nothing. Small. Pathetic. Insignificant. Like all the fight has drained right out of me.
“What if something had happened to Noah! You don’t even have your phone around to answer. Just think, Lana, think!” he chides me with his superior tone. Why is he doing this? Doesn’t he have plans in his fancy, busy life? And why do I feel the need to justify myself? I’ve got Noah’s custody. He should be thanking me for still letting him see our son after everything he’s done to me. I never filed a complaint, but I kept evidence. A lot of it. No one knows, but I took pictures and videos back when I still had the strength. I hid them, just in case I ever needed to prove the truth. I have leverage. And still, I feel as small as I did back then. At his mercy.
