“Ethan/Ever/Whoever,
Thank you for sheltering me in a time of need and allowing me to keep Stanley here after the incidents of the last two days.
That said, I need to leave.
You’ve painted Love out of lies. That’s not love. That’s manipulation.
Please give me space.
I don’t want to be a part of this.
Keely doyle”
I would have preferred a knife to the heart over the note. The note that stated a reality I wouldn’t accept.
Kee was gone.
Keely
I held my breath as I shuffled from Ethan’s front door to the elevator, fully expecting him to burst through it at any moment. I must have hit the close-door button a hundred times, still jittery as I climbed into a cab halfway down the block a few minutes later.
It was there on the cracked leather seat that I could finally breathe. That I could wrap my mind around what Ethan revealed. If that really was his name. For all I knew, his real name was Norbert.
How could I trust anything he said after lying to my face for two years?
He knew me. The real me. Every vulnerability. Every secret. He repaid that trust with lies.
Stanley sat on the seat beside me, ears back as he kept a suspicious eye on the driver. We’d already made serious strides in our relationship. He hadn’t growled or snapped when I scooped him up and made a break for it. Maybe he understood we were all one another had.
He maintained his post while we made a quick pit stop at a pharmacy to pick up essentials, including motion-sickness tabs that made riding with the weaving driver almost bearable, my stomach doing backflips with every turn.
I powered down my cell phone to avoid the barrage of texts and calls that would soon roll in as we rode to the station, buying a ticket for the next train to New York City once we arrived. I said a silent prayer Stanley wouldn’t bite anyone on the way as I tucked it into my purse. I couldn’t afford the ticket as is, let alone a fine or medical bills.
Heading out of town wasn’t exactly financially responsible given my living situation, but I needed time away before I lost my mind. Before I lost the nerve to say no.
Afterward, I’d regroup. If push came to shove, I could always rent a storage unit for my things and couch-surf at Bridget’s until I found a new place. She’d been trying to coax me into moving in for years to help with the boys. Doing so temporarily wouldn’t kill me.
But waiting would.
I was in knots as I sat on a long, metal bench in the terminal, the material cold against my skin. I was still wearing the dress I wore to Lil’s service, the thin, black fabric doing little to keep me warm as fall seemed to blanket Boston overnight. I couldn’t stop at my apartment to grab anything warmer on the way. It was the first place Ethan would look.
Every time new crowds drifted in, I found myself tensing up, terrified he’d be among them. I wasn’t sure why. He wouldn’t hurt me. But I couldn’t face him.
I needed to come to terms with life as I knew it. Jorge moving. My family imploding. My privacy being stripped away. The loss of Lil. So much had changed in a month. I couldn’t deal with his nonsense, too.
The longer I waited, the more anxiety crept in, the threats I’d read crawling out of the darkness. What if someone recognized me? What if one of the monsters found me? I could barely form a cohesive sentence after the last few days, let alone defend myself.
I sank into the metal, head down as the minutes ticked by, skin dusted with goosebumps courtesy of the chill in the air. A clicking noise was driving me insane until I realized it was my teeth clattering.
I could’ve cheered when the train arrived, more so when I discovered my window seat was beneath an air vent, its heat warming my tired bones. As I settled in, I tucked my backpack between my legs while Stanley took his throne on my lap.
With him standing guard, I let sleep win for once, knowing no one would mess with me thanks to the chomp-happy Chihuahua ready and waiting to ambush them.
* * *
Five hours later, I was standing in a questionable hotel kicking myself for hopping on a train to a city I’d only been to once. There were plenty of places in Massachusetts I could have stayed at for less that weren’t nearly as sketchy. The lobby alone made me thankful I’d had a tetanus shot a year earlier.
But I paid for two nights and took the weathered room card from the toothless front desk worker anyway, grateful to have a place to rest and recharge. It was unlike anywhere I’d ever stayed, but it was better than the streets and way better than any liar’s penthouse.
I slid the card in the reader and pushed inside, the blue carpeting alarmingly crunchy beneath my feet. “I’m sorry,” I muttered to Stanley, knowing we were both in for an interesting stay as I turned the lights on, a blue and green pinstripe room coming into view, a queen-size bed, oak end tables, and radiator taking up most of the space. A small television sat on the dresser in front of the bed, its power cords knotted and gnarled as it plugged into an outlet a few inches away.
After setting the three locks on the door, I dropped my backpack on the bed, the uneven frame creaking upon impact. Apparently the wallpaper wasn’t the only loud thing about the place.
And almost as if on cue, I heard it.
More like heard them.
Two lovers next door going to town directly behind the bed. Only it wasn’t just the usual moans or sighs. I could have handled that. Hell, I could have handled some spanking and screams.
But not the
