Jeez, get it together, Pepper.
I don’t begin to calm down until I’m on the other side, dead bolt in position, and then I breathe a sigh of relief. I jump again when I look over and see Ben sitting on one end of the couch, leg propped up on the table, eyes fastened on the TV that isn’t turned on.
“God, don’t scare me like that,” I say, out of breath with my hand on my chest.
He still doesn’t look at me, and my heart continues to race.
“What are you doing? Why are you sitting here in the dark?” I flip a light on, and he flinches. “Ben?” I round the table and stand in front of him, dropping the food on the surface beside his propped-up foot.
I sink in the chair next to the couch, and he finally looks at me.
“What’s going on?” I whisper.
“I, uh …” he starts and clears his throat. Just staring at me.
“Is everything okay?” I reach and lay my hand on his knee, squeezing a little.
“I don’t think we should be together anymore.”
My stomach drops, the sinking feeling spreading through my body, making my arms and legs numb.
“You don’t think we should be together anymore?” I place my hands in my lap, making fists and then uncurling them. My palms burn where my fingernails have made indentions in my skin.
“No, this is moving too fast for me.”
“Too fast for you?” I sound like a parrot, repeating everything he says.
At this, he glances away. I couldn’t tell if it was regret or relief that flashed in his eyes before he averted them.
“Did I do something? I mean … I know it’s a little backward that we’re living together already, but that can’t be helped. We were roommates first.”
I stop, and his eyes fasten on mine.
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
“Then, what do you mean? This is out of left field, and I don’t understand what brought it on.” I rise from the chair and sit on the couch next to him, trying to get closer, trying to figure him out.
“Pepper, I don’t want to see you anymore.” He brings one hand up, rubbing the back of his neck for a moment before letting his hand drop back to his lap.
“Did I come on too strong? I can leave you alone for a while. I’ll go back to my bed—”
“God, Pepper. Read my lips. I don’t want to be with you anymore,” he growls out, frustration evident in his face.
My eyes fill with tears, which I struggle to blink away.
You will not cry in front of him. You will not cry in front of him. I reach up and pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Right.” I nod, looking around as I shuffle my purse back on my shoulder. I stand abruptly, turning to walk to my room.
I pause and let a single tear roll down my cheek before shifting back around and looking him square in the face.
“Fuck you, Ben,” I whisper before walking to my room and shutting the door with an almost-silent click.
I let my purse drop off my shoulder, the thud echoing the one in my chest as my heart cracks down the middle. I run a finger under both eyes, gathering the wetness that wants to streak down my face and wiping it on my pants. A vain effort since new tears take their place.
Like a zombie, I walk to my bed, sinking into the plush comforter I haven’t slept under in weeks. I run my hand back and forth, the soft fibers sending a bolt of comfort up my arm, lulling me into a resigned state.
If he wants me to leave, I’ll leave.
I start to move, walking with purpose to my closet, and throw open the doors. Retrieving my bag stashed at the back, I open it, throwing it on my bed, and I begin to throw clothes in it. I’m a tornado, flinging drawers open, pulling garments out. They land in the bag in a heap, in chaos, no order. Just like my emotions. I tug a few shoes from the rack, setting them beside the clothes, and grab my makeup bag and perfume from the dresser. Once I have sufficiently packed enough to stay somewhere else, I pull open my door, hold my head high, and stalk through the apartment to the front door.
“I don’t understand,” I say, pleading with him to tell me what is going on before I open the door and walk out.
“I just need you out of here,” he says, fisting his shorts in his hands.
I take him in—the tense posture, the way he won’t fully look at me—and I feel like something is off.
“I don’t think that’s it, Ben. There’s something you aren’t telling me.”
“I’m doing what is best for you,” he says, not making eye contact.
“Don’t you think that’s for me to say?”
“Sometimes, we don’t always get a say.”
I nod my head, studying him behind the tears in my eyes.
“That’s true. I’m not getting a say here; you are deciding for me. Don’t be a dick, Ben. Don’t do this to us. Something happened to make you decide this. You aren’t acting like yourself.”
Ben doesn’t say anything, and I can only stand there for so long in silence. He doesn’t try to stop me as I walk out the door. I guess this is the good-bye I get. After everything I’ve done for him since he came home from the hospital, this is how he wants to break up with me.
I struggle to get my heavy bag in the car, tears blurring my vision, and I freeze when I feel that prickling sensation again.
Is someone watching me?
I get in the car and shut the door, locking it behind me before I look around, still not seeing anyone. I sigh, letting my head drop to the top of the steering wheel. I pull out my phone and hold it under my face, so I can see who I’m calling. I bring
