Page 173 of The Clinch
“Don’t call me that.”
His expression changes at last. Mild patience with something ugly and familiar underneath. “You don’t get to erase half your life because some boxer moved you into his place.”
The disgust lands so hard it steadies me.
“Keep watching,” I bite.
His jaw tightens. “This is about him.”
I feel the last soft edge inside me burns off.
“This is about you walking up on me in the street after I’ve made it clear I want nothing to do with you.”
He moves closer. Close enough now that I can smell his cologne under the city air. My whole body recoils.
“You think I don’t know what this was?” He lowers his voice. “The boxer. The apartment. The whole show. He had his turn. Fine. That doesn’t change what you are to me.”
My grip tightens around my drink so hard the plastic creaks.
“What I am,” I say, each word flat and clear, “is a woman telling you to get away from her.”
A couple passing on the sidewalk glance over.
Good.
He notices too. Drops his voice even more. “You always do this. You make everything bigger than it is.”
There it is. Make the reaction the problem. Make me the unstable one.
Not today.
“I’m going to say this again. Move away from me. Right now.”
Instead, he reaches for my arm.
Not a lunge. Not enough to look violent at a glance. Just his hand closing around my elbow with the same old presumption that he can redirect my body if he wants to.
I jerk back so hard, the iced tea splashes cold over my fingers.
“Don’t touch me.”
Heads turn this time.
His grip tightens for one stupid second, maybe because he thinks he can calm me, maybe because he thinks he can still contain the scene by controlling me inside it.
I wrench my arm again and pitch my voice louder. “Let go of me, Travis, or I will scream.”
A man walking a dog slows. A woman near the curb stops pretending not to look. Travis’s fingers loosen, but he doesn’t drop away fully. His eyes flash with something mean and humiliated.
“You’re overreacting.”
I laugh right in his face.
“No. I’m escalating.”
Then I pull free. The relief is instant and not nearly enough.
I back away, putting space between us, tracking my options. Open sidewalk ahead. Clinic two blocks north. Traffic to the left. I can run to Eden’s door or straight for the avenue, making enough noise to turn every head on this block.
