Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
“I think I’ll just watch for now,” I whispered.
Rip nodded once. “Good choice,” he said, and somehow those words didn’t feel condescending. They felt like he truly believed any decision I made would be the right one, simply because I’d made it myself.
Movement at the edge of my vision pulled my attention from Rip. Violet, Caleb’s mom, crossed the room with purposeful steps. In her arms, she carried the same fuzzy heather gray blanket I’d clutched during my first panic attack at Haven. The sight of it brought a wave of emotion. My breakdowns were so frequent I had my own blanket. Embarrassment scalded me, but when she draped it around my shoulders, I clutched the ends together, rubbing the soft material under my nose for comfort.
Violet knelt beside me. “Wrap yourself as tight as you need to,” she said simply. She offered a water bottle next, cap already loosened. “Small sips.”
I took the bottle with trembling hands, grateful when she didn’t let go until she was sure I had a grip on it. The first sip caught in my throat, making me cough, but the second went down easier, the cool liquid soothing my throat.
The others moved back to the mats, finishing up the lesson. I watched Rip, unable to take my eyes from him. I have no idea why I’d latched on to him in my head. To me, he represented Haven. And this place made me feel safer than I had since Eric entered my life.
Now, Rip sat against the wall opposite me, his posture relaxed but alert. The other women had returned to practicing in pairs, with Caleb stepping in to help when necessary. Every so often, Rip’s gaze would find mine and hold it before shifting his attention once again back to the group.
After everyone had broken for the day, Violet sat beside me on the floor, offering me a chicken salad sandwich and a bag of chips. “Feeling better?”
I nodded, surprised to realize it was true. “Yes. Thank you.”
She smiled and was about to respond when my phone rang. Someone had gotten it from my cubby and set it in front of me on the floor. I didn’t recognize the number displayed on the screen but thought nothing of it. Ms. Thompson told me she used a forwarding service to screen my calls. Anyone with my phone number would have to go through them before getting to me. I answered the call, grateful for the distraction.
“Hello?”
“Jade Harper?” A woman’s voice, professionally pleasant but unfamiliar.
“Yes. I’m Jade.”
“This is Melanie from Peterson & Holt Marketing. I’m calling about the position you held with us.”
My stomach dropped. I’d been on approved medical leave since the incident that had landed me at Haven, the paperwork filed hurriedly through HR by the one coworker who’d sometimes noticed the bruises I tried to hide. The leave was supposed to protect my job while I “recovered.”
“Oh,” I managed, my voice suddenly thin. “Yes?”
“I’m sorry to inform you that we’ve had to permanently fill your position,” Melanie continued, her tone shifting to practiced sympathy. “Given the indefinite nature of your absence and since you were contracted outside the company, your department manager made the decision to bring someone on full time.”
I closed my eyes, willing myself not to cry again. “I see.”
“Your personal items have been boxed up. You can arrange to collect them or have them shipped to you. And of course, you’re welcome to apply for any future openings that might suit your qualifications.”
The placid corporate phrasing washed over me like acid. Three years at that company, building client relationships, staying late, coming in early. And now I was just a box of personal items to be collected at my convenience.
“Thank you for letting me know,” I said mechanically, then ended the call before she could respond.
I stared at the blank screen, a strange numbness spreading through me. The marketing job had been my anchor to normalcy, the one thing I’d managed to hold onto even as Eric systematically dismantled every other part of my life. My friends had drifted away, confused by my increasingly erratic behavior and fabricated excuses. My family, already distant, had become even more so after Eric convinced me they were trying to control me just as my father had controlled my mother.
But work had been mine. Something I was good at, something that had nothing to do with Eric. Until he’d started showing up at office events, charming my colleagues while his fingers dug warning bruises into my waist.
And now it was gone too. My apartment. My friends. My career. All of it stripped away until nothing remained of the life I’d built before him.
My face crumpled as the full weight of it hit me. “That’s it then,” I whispered, my voice breaking as tears welled up again. “Everything’s gone.”