His hair is combed, and his white collared shirt is crisp. The bruising on his face has completely faded. He looks better. Lighter.
He looks like my handsome husband.
Can it really be?
I step back and let him in. “No, I just took a bath. I’m heating up some food. Are you hungry?”
He shakes his head. “No, but thank you. I saw Dan and Josie leaving with the kids when I got home from work. Figured I’d see if you were here. I really want to talk.”
“I want to talk, too.” I gesture to the plush, cream-colored couches in the living room. “Let’s sit.”
We lower ourselves onto separate cushions on the same couch. Paul reaches over and caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. “I miss you, Cal. You have no idea how much.”
“I miss you, too.”
And it’s not a lie. I miss the man I once fell in love with. I miss our good times. Our companionship.
“You look good,” I say. “Have you been going to therapy?”
His gaze drops to his lap. “Not yet. But I’ve made a list of a few places.”
My heart sinks. “Oh.”
“It’s been crazy at the office. I’ve been working long hours and on the weekends. I’m on a really important case right now.”
I’m an important case.
“So then why are you here?”
His eyebrows dip down. “Because I miss you. I wanted to see where your head is at. I don’t think being apart from each other is the best thing for us.”
I inch back. “I understand how you feel, but I don’t agree. Being apart is what’s best for me right now.”
“This isn’t just about you, Callie. What about me?”
I scoff. “Are you seriously asking that? After everything that happened, you’re worried about yourself?”
His hands shoot up in front of him. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying. Don’t twist my words.”
“I’m not twisting anything.” I rise from the couch and start pacing. “You keep telling me how much you miss me and how much you want me to come home. Yet, you haven’t done the one thing I’ve asked you to do. You’re not making me a priority.”
“Come on.” Paul stands and grips my forearms. “We’re both supposed to make each other a priority. I don’t see how what you’re doing is putting me first either.”
I yank my arms out of his grasp. “We put each other first when we work on ourselves. You need help, Paul.”
He steps forward and cradles my face in his hands. “I need you, Callie. You. I don’t want to lose you. I can’t.”
The guilt overwhelms me. He’s in my space, and my head is swirling. I can’t breathe, my chest tight, my throat closing. I place my palms on his chest and push him back gently, but he doesn’t budge.
He grips my face tighter.
“Please, Callie. Please, come home with me. Be with me again. I’ll be better, I swear.”
His lips crash into mine. His kiss is anything but tender. I try to pull back, but he wraps his arms around me and squeezes me, holding me there against him.
Against my will.
I turn my head so I can suck in a breath. “Paul, please. You’re hurting me.”
“I just love you so much. I can show you. You need to see. You need to feel it again. If you feel my love, you’ll come home. I can make you love me again.”
My heart thrashes against my chest. “No! Not like this. Please, not like this.”
I can’t wriggle free. He’s too strong. Instead, I let my legs go limp and drop all of my weight in his arms. He stumbles forward and falls on top of me on the floor.
I claw at the area rug beneath me, attempting to slither out of his reach. But he’s fast, and he pins me on my back, straddling my hips.
Again, he kisses me hard. Tears stream down my face. I can’t get enough oxygen into my lungs, and I begin to panic.
I squirm under him, kicking my legs and smacking his arms, doing anything I can to get away.
He restrains my wrists over my head in one of his big hands while the other reaches between us. The sound of the zipper on his pants echoes in the room.
I scream.
“Shh. It’s okay, baby,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Please don’t do this, Paul. Please! I’ll never be with you if you do this.”
But he doesn’t hear my plea.
I don’t think anything I say could reach him now.
Panicked and running out of time, I ram my forehead into his, stunning the both of us. His grip around my wrists loosens, and I use the opportunity to stretch my arm up to the glass vase sitting on top of the coffee table.
I smash it into the side of Paul’s head, knocking him unconscious. Glass shards are everywhere, and blood trickles from Paul’s temple.
But I don’t move.
I can’t.
I wrap my arms around my midsection and curl up into a shaking ball on the floor.
Twenty-Three
Cole
There are some images you’ll never be able to erase from your memory.
Callie lying in the middle of Josie’s living room in the fetal position, covered in broken glass, is one of them.
I hear someone crying when I walk into Josie’s kitchen. I step through the hallway, and when I get to the living room, my stomach bottoms out.
Paul’s passed out face-down on the area rug beside Callie, and she’s weeping. I rush over to her and kneel down, scooping her into my arms.
“Callie, what happened? Are you okay?”
Her entire body is trembling, tears running down her cheeks. “Be careful,” she whispers. “There’s glass.”
A strangled sound leaves my throat. “What the fuck happened in here?”
She squeezes her eyes shut and buries her face in my chest. Uncontrollable sobs wrack her body.
Jesus Christ.
“I need you to tell me if you’re hurt.” I glance down to her arms and legs. “Did he ... did he hurt you?”
She shakes her head. “He tried ... he tried to force himself on me.”
Paul stirs, groaning, as he touches his fingers to the cut on his head.
Rage flares in the pit of my stomach, and it courses through me like lava. I carry Callie to the stairs and ease her onto her feet. “Go upstairs and lock yourself in your room. Don’t come out until I come and get you. Do you understand me?”
Her eyes move to Paul, but I bring her attention back to me. “Look at me, Callie. Do you understand?”
She nods and then runs up the stairs.
Paul is trying to stand when I stalk over to him. I grip him by the back of his neck and drag him toward the door.
“What are you doing?” he grumbles.
“What I should’ve done from the start.”
As I turn the knob, the door pushes back on me. Dan, Josie, and the kids are home.
“Cole, what’s going on?” Josie asks.
“Keep the kids out of the living room. There’s glass everywhere.”
I push past them as Paul struggles to get out of my grip.
Dan follows me down the walkway. “Where are you going?”
I stare straight into his eyes. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”