Page 99 of The Long Way Home
“I’ve been ignoring you because we’re done.” My keys bite into my palm. I don’t look at him. “I don’t owe you anything more than that.”
“You can’t just fucking ghost me, Rachel.”
I shift toward the driver’s door, but he moves with me, one quick step that blocks my path. His shoulders square as if he’s ready to hold his ground. My chest tightens.
“Yes, I can,” I say. “We’re broken up. That’s how this works.” I keep my tone even, though it takes everything in me not to let it break.
“Don’t get smart with me.” His voice sharpens fast. “You owe me a conversation. After everything? You don’t just get to walk away without explaining shit.”
His breath is sour with alcohol. I stop short. My heart kicks up, fast and fluttery, thudding against my ribs. His eyes are bloodshot. I glance down and watch his hands flex open and closed at his sides, like he can’t control what they want to do.
“I don’t owe you anything,” I say, and I try to keep my voice level, but it comes out thinner than I want. “Move.”
He stays where he is.
I step sideways. He shadows me, dragging his feet but planting himself in front of the path to the door. He sets his stance wide, as if daring me to push past.
“You think you can just cut me off like that? After everything?”
“There is no ‘after everything,’ Ben,” I say. “It’s over.”
“No, it’s not.” The words snap out of him. Louder now. His eyes flare. “You said you needed space. You didn’t say we were fuckingdone.”
“I’m pretty sure I said, ‘it’s over, and it’s done, and move out.’ I’m not sure how you twisted that into ‘let’s take a break.’”
He steps in.
I stumble back until the car stops me. The door handle digs into my hip. He doesn’t slow. He closes the gap, plants his arm against the roof above me, and locks me in place.
Cold rushes through me. Every muscle in my body locks tight. He is too close. If he doesn’t move, I can’t either.
“Get out of my way,” I yell as I squirm beneath him.
“You don’t get to throw us away,” he growls. His face hovers close, his words hot against my skin. “Not after everything I did for you. You don’t just walk out like none of it mattered.”
His other hand twitches, and I think he is about to reach for my face. But right before he does, he stops himself. He curls it into a fist around my wrist instead.
Pain shoots through my arm, and I can’t help but wince.
“We were good together, Rachel,” he says as he presses his hips onto mine. “Don’t you see that?”
My pulse is hammering now. My mind races. I keep my other hand at his chest, pressing into it, trying to create any sort of distance. “Move, Ben.”
He doesn’t budge. He digs in, grounding himself even more, like he belongs there, like my refusal means nothing. I don’t think I could force him to move even if I could somehow summon the strength.
“You don’t know what the hell you’re doing,” he hisses. “You think some fantasy guy is gonna treat you better than I did? No one’s gonna put up with the shit I did. And trust me, babe, I put up with a hell of a lot.” His hand squeezes around my wrist tighter now.
“Ben, you’re hurting me.” My voice cracks slightly, despite my best effort. But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink at the sound of my pain.
“You really think those people give a shit about you?” His sneer curls. “You think Rhett’s gonna want anything to do with you once he figures out what you’re actually like? Once he knowsI’ve already had you. That you’re nothing but my used scraps. You’re fuckingworthless,Rachel.”
Something inside me snaps, and I shove my hand harder into his chest.
“I mean it. Get off of me!”
For a beat, he stares at me. His breathing is ragged, and his eyes are dark. The rage in him simmers just beneath the surface, waiting for a spark, and I might have just lit it. He leans in slowly, bringing his face inches from mine, and my whole body stays rigid. Every instinct screaming,don’t move, don’t escalate, don’t show him fear.
And I believe, in that moment, if I say one more thing, he might really hurt me.
