He hesitated, one hand on the door, his lips parting as if trying to think of something decent to say. “See ya.” He opened the door and his silhouette disappeared against the snow blinding, bright morning sky.
The rumble of a diesel truck slowed outside and she heard Finn’s shouted greeting. “What the hell you doin’ stayin’ way out here?”
The truck idled loudly and a door slammed before she caught Giovanni’s reply.
Burying her face in her hands, she moaned with regret. Would he tell Finn? Would they have a good laugh about how easy she was?
She used the guys in Jasper Falls as much as they used her, but Giovanni felt personal. She didn’t want him to tell Finn. Not because she still had feelings for her ex, but because this had been different. Finn didn’t know her anymore. He knew the kid she used to be when they were two fumbling virgins trying to figure their way around each other’s bodies.
Giovanni doesn’t know you either…
She cut off her thoughts, wondering what the hell she was thinking. Giovanni didn’t know her. So what if they exchanged a few secrets about their pasts last night and saw each other naked. None of that was real. He was just another one-night stand and by the end of the week, he’d be gone.
Her dress was mostly dry when she put it back on, but her shoes were trash. She called for an Uber and left Giovanni’s shirt folded on top of his suitcase. She needed to get out of there before he returned.
The car arrived and she appreciated technology for saving her from the chore of small talk. She needed a change of clothes and someone to tow her car out of the ditch, then she could leave and go someplace where no one knew her.
It was eight in the morning, so her dad would already be at the store. Plenty of time to deal with her car and pack more than a purse.
When the Uber passed her car on the side of the road, it was barely noticeable. Just a giant snow drift by the trees. She’d need to tell the tow driver to bring a shovel. Finn’s truck faced Giovanni’s, both vehicles pumping steam from the mufflers and running fine.
Once home, she thanked the driver and keyed her way into the house. Kicking off her wasted shoes, she tossed her purse aside and went to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. Grabbing the grounds from the cabinet, she stilled. Something strange caught her eye, but she wasn’t sure what.
Scanning the kitchen, her stare stopped on the glass dish. Her jaw locked. Guess the old bastard expected her to come back and make his damn cake.
Tossing the bag of coffee grounds onto the counter, she snatched up the dish and went to the back door, hurling it out into the snow. It disappeared, leaving a hollow square imprint in the white yard.
She prepped the coffee and hit start, deciding to take a shower while it brewed. Last night was one more perfect example of her gullible faith in the wrong people. She spent years waiting around for her dad to change and picked men almost certain to run from her.
Why? What sort of self-sabotaging psychopath lived like that? Did she want to be alone?
No. Deep down she wanted to be loved, but a lifetime under this roof had convinced her she was simply unlovable. A fragile part of her logical self argued that was simply the result of living with an abuser, but the battered parts of her psyche wondered if that was true. Maybe her dad was right. Maybe she’d only ever be a burden.
Her hand paused from wiping up the counter and she stared blankly at the cabinet door. How had she tolerated this house for so long? She left years ago but somehow came back. For what?
He ripped her to emotional shreds and had a temper that could leave bruises for days. What was wrong with her that she would tolerate that?
Even now, as she planned to finally move out and start over, she was terrified he might be right, that the world would reject her and she’d have to come groveling back, needing a place to live. Her experiences with people and jobs in Jasper Falls weren’t that far off. No one liked her, and she had no one she could trust or depend on.
She couldn’t tell if she stayed out of fear or if she stayed because she was some sort of damaged masochist who didn’t know how to leave her abuser. What was that called, Stockholm’s? Could she really be that messed up?
She threw the sponge in the sink and shoved the unwelcomed thought away. But the fear that she might not have the courage to actually leave lingered. Moving to a place where no one knew her seemed like a fresh start, but it also terrified her. Maybe the location didn’t matter. Maybe the problem was her.