Aria by Jennifer Hartmann

15Chapter Fifteen

"Surprise!"

Noah and Sam entered their home to a grand welcome of familiar faces. Noah had known about the celebration – it was all Chelsie's idea. She had texted him at 2 A.M. after leaving the hospital that first night.

"Can't sleep. Planning an epic welcome home party for Sam in my head. Thoughts?"

Noah thought it was a great idea. Whether or not she could pull it off in thirty-six hours was the question.

She did, though. Chelsie Combs always came through.

Noah watched Sam’s face light up. Balloons floated to the vaulted ceiling, as friends and family blew bubbles and blared noisemakers. The smell of homemade treats assaulted his senses.

“Oh, boy!” Sam shouted, jumping up and down. “Nana and Pappy are here, Dad!”

Lucinda and Robert Hayes smiled as they approached. Noah’s parents had flown in from Seattle after finding out about the accident. He didn’t see his parents often with his busy schedule and the cross-country distance, so it was always special when they came into town – even when the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“Sweet Noah,” his mother said. She clutched his face between her hands. Her assortment of rings and baubles pressed into the hollows of his cheeks. Lucinda was almost a foot shorter than he was – a petite woman with striking, silver hair and light, green eyes. She stood up on her tiptoes to plant an affectionate kiss on his jaw.

“Hey, Mom,” Noah said.

Robert slapped a strong arm against his shoulder. “Son,” his father greeted. “We came as soon as we heard.”

Robert Hayes was a similar height to Noah, hovering around six-foot-two. He had always been on the leaner side, but a prominent potbelly was beginning to protrude from his belt buckle. His facial hair had been graying over the years and the wrinkles in his face grew more visible every time Noah saw him.

“I know, Pops,” Noah replied. He stepped past his parents and watched as Sam flew from person to person. Sam was being smothered in giant hugs and relieved kisses.

“I was really brave!” Sam declared. He held out the lollipop he had been clinging to on the drive home.

Chelsie appeared from the kitchen with Rosa close behind. “You’re home!” Chelsie proclaimed, bending down and holding her arms out to Sam. He ran full force into her embrace. “I missed the big entrance. I was helping Rosa with the lasagna.”

“That’s okay, Miss Chelsie. Daddy said to make sure I tell you thank you for my party.”

Noah sauntered into the living room, making eye contact with Chelsie as she cradled Sam in her arms. She smiled warmly in his direction.

“You’re very welcome, Sam,” she replied.

“Mi dulce niño!” Rosa cried. She tossed her potholders onto the back of the sofa and pulled Sam into a tight squeeze. “Your arm! Misericordia de mi.” She did the sign of the cross while looking up to the Heavens.

“You can sign my cast, Miss Rosa,” Sam told her. He lifted his elbow as high as he could with a proud grin.

Noah stepped over to the group. “Do you think you can get every person here to sign your cast, buddy?” he challenged.

The little boy’s eyes popped open. “Good idea! Let me get my markers.” He raced up the staircase at record speed.

Chelsie smiled. She crossed her arms over her blush-colored blouse. “He’s a fighter, that’s for sure.”

Noah studied her. Her eyes were still lingering on where Sam had disappeared up the flight of stairs. Chelsie had been the only shining light for him during some of the darkest days of his life. She had quite literally been his shoulder to cry on when he thought his world was falling apart. She had a way of tearing away his layers and digging deep into his most vulnerable parts.

Chelsie Combs was so much more than she believed. She was a field of wildflowers. She was children playing on a sunny day. She was lightening bugs at dusk. She was lemonade. She was magic.

She was exactly what he needed, but could never have.

“What?”

Noah blinked at her question. He had completely zoned out.

“Is it my hair?” Chelsie toyed with a brilliant, blonde strand. “Is something in my hair?”

Noah grinned. “Your hair looks great.”

“You were staring,” she said.

“You assume it was a bad thing. I was just thinking you look really pretty today.”

Color flooded her cheeks and she lowered her eyes, digging the tip of her pointed shoe into the area rug. “Oh.”

Noah’s grin widened. He found a strange satisfaction in the crimson rouge that stained her skin. She had never been good at taking compliments.

Chelsie cleared her throat. “I need to get the lasagna in the oven.”

Noah stared after her in amusement as she bolted back into the kitchen.

Rosa approached his side. “Oh, Noah. You’ve got it bad, muchacho.”

He scoffed at her, glancing around the room to make sure no one had heard her. “I don’t pay you to analyze my personal life, Rosa.”

“No, I do that for free.” She jabbed a firm finger into his ribcage. “Tell her, señor. You must!”

“This is not a conversation I want to have right now.”

“Life is too short, mi amigo. There is only now.” Rosa gave him a pointed look before following Chelsie into the kitchen.

Noah sighed. He pushed Rosa’s words out of his mind as he surveyed his friends and family. Miles and Lisa were munching on appetizers. A group of his cousins were mingling by the dessert table. His parents had joined Sam upstairs to fetch his arts and crafts bin.

Where were Devon and Tad?

Noah migrated into the kitchen where the smell of fresh herbs enveloped him. He watched as Chelsie and Rosa carried two large pans of homemade lasagna over to the oven. “Chelsie, where is Devon? You two didn’t come together?”

She faltered and set the dish on top of the stove. “He, uh… never came home last night,” she said. She swiped a lock of hair out of her eyes. “I haven’t been able to get ahold of him all day. His phone is turned off.”

Noah frowned in concern. “Really?” he replied. “Do you know where he went yesterday?”

Chelsie looked flustered. “He said he was getting drinks with Tad around eight last night. That was the last I heard from him.”

Noah glanced at the clock, noting it was a little after 11 A.M. It was possible they had drunk too much and were still passed out. “I wouldn’t worry,” he told her. “He’ll turn up.”

Noah was not happy. This was Sam’s coming home celebration after almost dying. And Sam was Devon’s Godson for fuck’s sake. Sometimes he really hated that bastard.

Chelsie smiled faintly. “I’m sure he will.”

There was a knock on the door. Noah headed towards the front of the house, wondering why they didn’t let themselves in. He pulled open the door and was startled by the figure standing before him. He had forgotten he’d invited her.

“Beth.”

***

Chelsie puttered around the kitchen island, mixing pasta salads together and slicing up French bread. Rosa was taking an apple strudel out of the oven.

“Deliciosa!” Rosa exclaimed, lowering her nose to the strudel.

Chelsie pulled a stack of party plates out of the cupboard. “That smells incredible,” she said.

“Muy,” Rosa agreed. She turned to Chelsie and wiped her hands on a decorative dish towel. “Señorita, forgive me if it’s not my place, but I must ask. Señor Noah… you enjoy his company, no?”

Chelsie stopped in her tracks, caught off guard by the question. “Um… yes, I do. He’s a wonderful friend.”

“Si. He’s a good man. An honest man.”

Chelsie tucked her lips between her teeth. “I agree.”

Rosa leaned over the kitchen island and took Chelsie’s hands into her own. “My child. I see the way he looks at you. I see how happy you make him. You are an angel sent from Heaven, mi dulce chica.” She squeezed Chelsie’s hands, shaking them vigorously. “Noah is a different man since you came into his life. You’ve put light back in his eyes. You must see it.”

Chelsie stood frozen in place as she processed Rosa’s words. Rosa had it all wrong. It wasn’t like that with Noah. “I appreciate your perspective, but Noah and I are just friends. Maybe you’ve misinterpreted something.”

“I see what I see,” she said with conviction. “And I will say this: I had a man like Noah once. His name was Paco. Back when I was a jovencita – a very young girl. But I did not follow my heart.” Rosa held a hand firmly over her chest. “I thought a better life was waiting for me in the United States. Mi madre took me from my home in Mexico to start fresh here in New York. I married a man all wrong for me. He did not speak to my heart the way mi amor did back in Mexico.”

Chelsie was wrought with emotion as she watched the tears well up in Rosa’s eyes.

“I wonder every day if he’s waiting for me. But I cannot go back now. Too much time has passed. I failed my heart.” Rosa reached for Chelsie’s hands again. “You are a smart muchacha. Do not make the same mistakes I did. Listen to the song in your heart. It only plays for one.”

Rosa let go of her hands and Chelsie blinked back tears. Her feet were secured to the floor, and her head felt like it was spinning. “I’m with Devon,” she said, her voice cracking.

Rosa smiled knowingly. “I see what I see.” She turned back to the stove and began cutting into the strudel, serenading herself with Spanish melodies.

Chelsie swallowed. She looked down at her hands and noticed they were holding onto the edge of the island so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

“Chelsie?”

Noah appeared behind her. She whipped around, startled, and knocked a serving dish onto the floor. It cracked in half. “Crap.”

“Here, let me help,” said an unfamiliar female voice.

Chelsie glanced up at the pretty blonde bending over with her to help pick up the dish. “Thanks,” she said.

They stood back up and the woman extended her hand. “I’m Beth.”

Chelsie shook her hand. “How do you know Sam?” she asked guardedly.

Noah cleared his throat. “I actually met Beth a few minutes before Sam’s accident. We ran into each other at the playground. I followed up with her when I was in the hospital to tell her about the fall.”

Chelsie pursed her lips together. Noah met a random stranger at the park and invited her to his son’s welcome home party two days later?

Beth tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, revealing a golden hoop earring. “It’s weird. I get it. But I’ve heard a lot about you already, Chelsie. Maybe we can get to know each other better.”

Chelsie didn’t make new friends easily. She was a private person with years of pent up trust issues. She appreciated the sentiment, but she did not foresee going on picnics and coffee dates with this woman. Beth was a stranger. “Sure. Sounds great.”

Beth smiled and bobbed her head up and down in satisfaction. “I look forward to it.”

More pleasantries. More forced smiles and awkward tension. Chelsie’s eyes roamed over the length of the young blonde in front of her. She was standing so close to Noah their shoulders were touching. Beth was beautiful. Her skin looked like it had never seen a day of sun, and her features were feminine and delicate. She had chocolate brown eyes and perfect, white teeth. Her smile was her finest attribute, and she was currently flashing it in Noah’s direction. Noah was looking at her with a distinctive twinkle in his eye.

Chelsie’s jaw began to ache, and she realized she had been grinding her teeth together. She was also still holding onto the broken dish, and the sharp edges were slicing into her hand.

“Let me officially introduce you to Sam,” Noah said, placing his hand on the small of Beth’s back.

Chelsie’s eyes narrowed and she bit down on her bottom lip. She was surprised Noah felt inclined to introduce this woman to his son already. She could be a crazed, delusional fan.

Beth nodded. “I’d love that.” She offered Chelsie a grand smile. “It was so nice to meet you, Chelsie. Noah is lucky to have such a trusted babysitter for his son.”

Babysitter? Chelsie couldn’t help the queasy flutter in her stomach and the rush of anger that made her skin flush. She responded with a tight-lipped smile and looked sharply at Noah. “Right. I feel honored to be his… babysitter.”

Noah’s face flashed with guilt as he turned and guided Beth out of the kitchen. Chelsie’s heartbeat was racing.

“She is muy bonita.” Rosa glanced over to the spot where Noah and Beth had been standing.

Chelsie shrugged nonchalantly and changed the subject. “I guess. Do you think these will be enough brownies?”

Rosa smiled. “Si. Now, go enjoy the party. You help too much.”

“Chelsie?”

Chelsie’s head shot up at the familiar sound of her name.

Devon.

“Pardon me, Rosa.” She ran out of the kitchen and into the living room. She came face-to-face with Tad and Devon. “Devon, you look…”

Awful. Terrible.

Drunk?

Chelsie approached him. She did not smell alcohol on him. Was he sick?

“I made it,” Devon grinned. He raised an accomplished arm in the air. His eyes were sunken in and his hair looked like it hadn’t been combed in a week. 

“Devon, what happened? Where were you? We were worried.”

He fidgeted. “Just having a little fun, eh, Tad?”

Tad stuffed his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forth between both feet. He also looked disheveled.

Chelsie stepped closer to the two men. “Are you… on drugs?”

Devon burst out laughing. “You’re the only drug I need, baby,” he said, leaning down and picking her up. He spun her in a clumsy circle as she pushed at his chest.

“Devon, put me down. You’re making a scene,” she demanded.

Noah and Beth appeared from the stairs.

“You’re alive.” Noah approached his bandmates and then frowned, narrowing his eyes at Devon. “Dude, are you strung out?”

Devon set Chelsie down, almost dropping her to the floor. She smoothed out her blouse and crossed her arms over her chest. She was shocked by the display. Chelsie had never known Devon to take drugs. She had been concerned about his increased drinking habits, but drugs had never crossed her mind.

Devon stepped over to one of the food tables and grabbed a large handful of potato chips. He shoved them into his mouth, dispersing crumbs all over the floor. Guests began to quiet their conversations to take in the scene.

“You’ve got to go, man,” Noah said. He stepped over to his front man and grabbed him by the arm. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Devon yanked his arm free. “I’m here for the party, bro. You invited me, remember?”

“Go home and fucking sleep it off. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Tad nodded his head and signaled Devon to follow. Devon rolled his eyes. “Whatever, dude. Fuck this shit.”

Chelsie’s was in shock. “Devon, what is going on?”

“Let him go, Chelsie,” Noah urged.

“Don’t tell my girlfriend what to do.” Devon stepped forward, getting in Noah’s face.

Miles interrupted. “Knock it off. Go get some air. Both of you.”

“Fuck you,” Devon said to the bassist. “This doesn’t concern you.”

“You want to do this, man?” Noah challenged. “In my goddamn living room with my entire family watching?”

Chelsie placed her hand on Devon’s elbow. He swung it back without looking, forcing Chelsie to go unsteady on her feet.

Noah shot him a death glare. “Don’t you fucking lay a hand on her.”

Devon stepped closer to Noah until their noses were almost touching. “Are you saying that because you care? Or because you’re bitter you never will?”

Noah shoved him away. “Get out of my house.”

“Fine. But I’m taking my girlfriend with me.” Devon looked over Noah’s shoulder at Beth. “Enjoy your Chelsie clone.”

“Get the fuck out,” Noah repeated.

Chelsie backed away from Devon. She had seen this look in a man’s eyes before and it scared her to death. “I’m going to stay here. Noah’s right… sleep it off.”

Devon stared at her in silence, sniffing and wiping at his nose. “You know what? We’re done. I’m going to Tad’s to cool down. Enjoy your last night in my million-dollar condo.”

He grabbed another fistful of chips and followed Tad out the front door. The pictures on the walls rattled when he slammed it shut. A stunned silence enveloped the crowd and nausea swept over Chelsie like a monsoon. What in the world had just happened? Did Devon just break up with her?

That wasn’t Devon. That wasn’t her Devon. Her Devon was kind, and patient, and loving. The person she’d just witnessed did not hold a candle to the man she knew. “I – I’m so sorry,” Chelsie stuttered. “I don’t know what that was all about.”

Rosa was quietly praying in the corner. “The Devil got inside that boy,” she said.

Noah’s hands were balled into fists at his side. “Can I have a word, Combs?”

She nodded and pushed back her tears. Chelsie followed him downstairs into the finished basement, away from the crowd. She was about to speak when he pulled her into a strong hug. She hadn’t realized how tense she was until her body instinctively relaxed in his arms. He smelled like sandalwood and soap.

“Shit.” His chest vibrated as he spoke, his voice low and raspy. “Are you okay?”

Chelsie nodded against his chest. “I think so. Did he really just break up with me?”

Noah sighed, tickling the hairs on the top of her head. “He just needs to cool off. I’m sure he didn’t mean it. You can stay here tonight if you want.”

She was tempted – very tempted. “I’ll be okay. Apparently, I need to start packing.”

Chelsie wasn’t certain Devon had meant it either, but what if he had? Where would she go? She had foolishly quit her job without a second thought. She had no backup plan. Chelsie would be starting back from square one – she was no better off than when she’d walked out on Ian Masterson five years ago. How had she allowed herself to become dependent all over again? Had she learned nothing? The realization made her feel ill.

“I can’t believe he’s using.”

Noah’s words broke through her self-deprecation. He pulled back but was still close enough she could feel his breath against her face. “What do you think he was on?” Chelsie asked, looking up at him through watery eyes.

“Coke.”

A chill ran down her spine. “I can’t believe it.” Chelsie had never anticipated this – she never expected Devon Sawyer to fall down such a dark path. Had her friendship with Noah triggered it? Was she responsible for his poor decisions? She shook her head. “This seems so out of character.”

Noah rubbed the back of his neck. “Tad used for over a year. It almost broke up the band. Drugs were never Devon’s scene, but money and fame can be powerful things. He’s never satisfied – he’s always needed more.”

“What do we do?” she wondered. “We have to help him.”

“Only he can help himself,” Noah said gravely. “And I sure fucking hope he does. And fast.”

Chelsie ran both hands through her hair. Part of her couldn’t accept that. She needed to help him – she needed to try. It was in her bones. “He seems to really have it out for you,” she said with a gulp. “Do you think he honestly believes…?” Her voice trailed off, her eyes finishing the question.

“That we’re sleeping together?”

Chelsie couldn’t help the blush that tinged her cheeks.

“I think he thinks I want to,” Noah said.

Do you? It was on the tip of her tongue, but she didn’t have the guts to say it. “Rosa… she was talking to me earlier. She also thinks there’s something going on between us,” she confessed. “Or that there should be, anyway. She was talking crazy talk.”

Noah’s mouth curved upward. “We’re an enigma. We’re something people can’t understand.”

That made so much sense and no sense at all. “What are we exactly?”

That was the million-dollar question. As if her relationship with Noah could be explained away in a simple word or phrase. As if there was an appropriate title they could bestow upon themselves.

There wasn’t. There couldn’t be. They simply just were.

“We’re whatever you want us to be.”

Chelsie sucked in a mouthful of air and almost choked on its density. Was that an invitation? A starting point? It felt as if Noah had handed her a box of crayons and a blank sheet of paper and told her to get to work. Oh, the things she could create. “I like us the way we are,” Chelsie said.

Noah’s face was unreadable. “Me, too.”

What did Rosa see? What did Devon see? What kind of grand artistry unfolded on their pieces of paper?

What did Noah see?

Chelsie was too afraid to ask. She was scared to give life to any of their illustrations.

“Beth seems nice.” She wasn’t sure why she said that – to change the subject? Or redirect the conversation? To hear from Noah what he really thought of the mysterious blonde upstairs?

“She is,” he said.

He did not indulge her. He did not elaborate. He did not give into her passive aggressive attempt at questioning his intentions.

“Let’s get back to the party,” Noah told her. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Chelsie nodded. Something was tugging at her – a vague emptiness. A sense of regret. It felt as if she had missed an opportunity or passed up a critical moment.

Whatever it was, it was over. Noah swept past her without another word and disappeared upstairs.

The party got back on track, despite Devon’s dramatic exit. The food was delicious, and she had never seen Sam happier. That was all that had mattered. Despite the break-up looming over her like a black cloud, Chelsie tried her best to enjoy herself. She said her goodbyes a few hours later and headed back to the condo. She flipped on the lights as she entered through the front door in futile hopes that Devon would be inside waiting for her. He was not.

Chelsie moved through the condominium, tossing her purse onto the coffee table and kicking off her shoes. She pulled out her phone to see if Devon had contacted her when she heard a noise coming from the master bedroom.

A familiar fear rattled in her bones. Chelsie had been so preoccupied with Devon’s new developments she’d forgotten to be more cautious. She had forgotten about Ian’s shadow looming over her. She approached the door to the bedroom, her bare feet tiptoeing across the hardwood floor. She reached a tentative hand toward the doorknob. Chelsie could hear her heartbeat in her ears, trouncing her senses like a bass drum.

She pushed the door open and gasped. She propelled herself backwards against the far wall when she came face-to-face with Ian Masterson. He was there. He was waiting for her.

And she was completely alone.

“Ian,” she said. Her mouth had gone so dry the word barely squeaked through her parched lips. Every extremity began to shake at the sight of him.

“Hey, Chelly Bean,” he grinned. “It’s been a while.”

Chelsie pressed her fingernails into her palms, reminding herself she was indeed awake. This was not one of her recurring nightmares. “What are you doing here?”

“I missed you.”

Chelsie swallowed. Ian had changed over the years. He was haggard and gaunt. His cheeks were sunken in, sharpening his already prominent features. Strands of gray hair peeked out through his mop of blonde curls. Chelsie idly wondered what she ever saw in him, aside from a broken man who needed fixing. “Ian, you need to leave. You need to stay away from me.”

There was a wicked gleam in his eyes as he stepped towards her. “Oh, Chelsie. Innocent, naïve Chelsie,” he sang. “We have so much to catch up on.”

Chelsie pulled out her phone to dial 9-1-1.

Ian was on her before she could complete the call. A scream pierced the air, echoing deftly through every room, every hallway, every nook and cranny. It was her scream. It was the same scream from all those years ago. The inflection, the pitch, the spectrum of fear. Nothing had changed. This scream belonged to Ian. He had dusted it off and brought it back to life like a special piece of china only unboxed for special occasions.

Ian had knocked the cell phone from her hands and tackled her to the floor. Her head struck hard against the wood grains and she saw stars. They weren’t stars, though. It was her occipital lobe sending out electrical signals, forcing shocks of light to permeate her vision. Stars were meant for wishes and fairytales.

This was no fairytale.

“Just like old times, huh?” Ian snarled, straddling her waist and pinning her wrists above her head with one hand. He used his free hand to unzip her jeans and tug them down her legs.

No, no, no. Chelsie felt weak. She had no fight in her. She was accustomed to Ian taking what he wanted.

“No.”

The word finally passed through her lips, but it only made him laugh. “You know that only gets me more excited.”

“No,” she repeated. Chelsie wasn’t the same girl she was back then. She had evolved. She was not the frail, lilting flower from years ago. She was a goddamn, motherfucking warrior. “I said no,” she hissed through her teeth.

Her body began to resist him. A primal need to protect herself took over and she lashed out at her attacker. Chelsie’s legs thrashed about, trying to connect with some part of his body. Her hands and arms twisted their way out of his hold when her knee lifted and connected with his groin.

Ian growled in pain as Chelsie rolled onto her stomach and began to crawl away. She was pulling herself to her feet when she felt a crude hand tug at her ankle, sending her back to the ground. She screamed again, hoping someone would hear her. He was about to mount her again when Chelsie eyed a decorative vase sitting on a shelf. She only had a fleeting second, so she gathered every ounce of strength she had and careened her body towards the shelving display.

She just missed it.

Ian flipped her onto her back for a second time and wrapped his icy fingers around her throat. “You’re going to pay for that, you stupid bitch.”

Chelsie saw evil in his black eyes. She gasped and clawed at his hands as his grip tightened around her neck. Was this it? Was she going to die here on Devon’s living room floor? Was he going to rape and violate her before or after he squeezed the air from her lungs?

The thought was too much to bear. She had built a life for herself. She had too much to live for now.

She had Lisa, and Devon, and Sam, and Noah.

Noah.

Noah’s face flashed through her mind as her lungs burned and begged for release. She pictured him barreling through the front door and saving her life. He was the hero in her story.

Ian was kissing her now. He was forcing her mouth open with his teeth and shoving his tongue in and out. Chelsie bit down as hard as she could.

“Arrrgh!” Ian released his hands from around her neck as blood pooled down his chin.

Chelsie took a heaving gulp of air, choking and sputtering on Ian’s blood. She knew she only had moments before he struck again. She lunged towards the vase, successfully wrapping her fingers around its spine. Without thought, she whirled around and collided it against his face with a sickening ‘thunk’.

Ian cried out in pain, collapsing backwards. “You’re fucking dead,” he snarled.

Fear bubbled inside Chelsie’s gut at the realization she hadn’t knocked him unconscious. The battle wasn’t over. She ran toward the guest bedroom, looking back to see Ian rising to his feet. She threw open the door and raced to the bedside table, pulling out the drawer and snatching the pistol. Panic consumed her as she heard Ian’s footsteps begin to approach.

“Boo.”

Chelsie spun around to face him. She pointed the gun square at his chest.

Ian faltered. He laughed, as if to hide the fear that had flashed across his face. “You actually think I believe you know how to use that thing?” He wiped at his mouth with his shirt sleeve, leaving a bloody streak across his cheek.

“Feel free to call my bluff,” Chelsie said. Her voice was calm, but her trembling hands betrayed her. She inched forward, her index finger on the trigger and her opposite hand trying to hold it steady.

Ian held his hands up and backed away. “Maybe I underestimated you,” he said. He spit a dollop of blood to his right as he stepped backwards.

“Get out of my house.”

Chelsie moved forward, rage bubbling through every cell in her body. She wanted to pull the trigger. She wanted to see him explode before her eyes, disintegrating into dust. But even more than that, she wanted him to live. She wanted him to rot in a prison cage for the rest of his life, knowing she had won. He had failed to surmount her. His control over her had been permanently severed. She knew that would be a worse punishment for a narcissistic pig like Ian Masterson – knowing he had lost.

Ian winked at her, then turned on his heel and ran out the door like the coward he was. Chelsie lowered her arms. She shut the door as hard as she could, and double bolted it. The pistol was dangling by her side. The weight of it was heavy, but not as heavy as the awareness that she had almost died.

Chelsie set the weapon down at her feet. She massaged her throat, running the tips of her fingers along where Ian had choked her.

I need to call the police. She stumbled into the hallway where Ian had knocked the phone from her hands. She fell to her knees and dialed in the familiar number.

“I’d like to report an assault,” she said into the speaker.

Chelsie gave them the address. She told them his name. She detailed the attack to the best of her recollection. They advised her to stay on the line, but she dropped the phone to the floor and fell back against the wall.

Chelsie broke. She crumbled into her hands, years of pent up torment and self-loathing spilling out of her eyes. She wailed and screamed and smashed her fists against the floor, releasing what felt like a lifetime of locked-up skeletons with every blow. She tipped over, laying sideways on the ground. Warm tears pooled beneath her cheek as she curled her knees up to her chest and sobbed.