After our session, I left Success in her office, still typing away like the world depended on it, and made my way back to my car.
Coming here was the best decision I'd made in weeks. Pouring everything out to her felt like offloading a hundred pounds of emotional baggage. I felt... lighter. Maybe not free, but definitely less caged. That was Success for you—she had this uncanny ability to untangle the mess in people's heads. I used to think it was just the therapy talk, but now I know better. She's a godsent.
I owed her more than I could ever say, even if the meds she gave me looked like they belonged in a thriller. My dosage wasn't normal anymore—I knew it. A little more and I'd be visiting the afterlife early. Not that she'd ever intentionally overdose me... but the joke still stood. Kinda.
Still, I could already picture her worrying more than necessary, and I knew Alex—her glorified oversized toddler of a boyfriend—was going to flip. The man was unhealthily obsessed with her, in the most adorable, annoying way possible. He always needed her attention like a toddler with a favorite toy. I hadn't seen him since I stopped coming here regularly, but we kept in touch through Success. They were the only ones who knew what I had truly gone through, and I intended to keep it that way. More people knowing meant more people in danger. And I couldn't afford that—not again.
At a red light, I massaged my temples. A migraine was brewing, slow and evil. Nothing fixed a bad day like caffeine, so when I spotted a familiar coffee shop nearby, I swerved into the parking lot and pulled in.
I walked inside and settled near the window, aiming for peace and caffeine. That's when I saw him.
Chris.
My lungs forgot their job for a second. Was he following me? No—he couldn't be. No one knew I was here. Roman wouldn't betray me like that. Still... what did he want?
A dozen questions warred in my mind, but I didn't realize I'd frozen mid-step until a waiter gently nudged me forward toward my seat.
"May I take your order, ma'am?"
"Just coffee, please."
"Black?"
"No. One shot of creamer, two sugars."
"Got it. Coming right up."
Once he left, my thoughts spiraled again. His table was too close. I wanted to bolt, but running would mean surrender. And I was so done being the coward in this story.
I stayed put.
Then I heard the sound of a chair scraping. My stomach sank.
Chris.
Smiling like he thought he still had power over me. Like I was still his to torment.
He sat at my table uninvited. I didn't say a word, just studied him. Brown eyes, sculpted jawline, full lips... features that once made my heart skip beats now made my stomach churn. How did I ever find this man attractive? He looked like a hippo in designer clothes.
"How are you doing?" he asked, his voice deep, familiar, and nauseating.
Under the table, I clenched my hands into fists.You're stronger now, Angel. If he tries anything, you'll break his nose.
"I'm fine," I said coolly.
He waited, clearly expecting me to ask why he was here. But I stayed quiet. Let him squirm.
"You're not even going to ask me why I came?"
"I don't care," I replied, voice flat. "And I don't want to know."
"You don't mean that, baby girl."
That did it.
"Do not call me that," I hissed. "Why is it that you men always think you can rename people without permission? It's Angel. Use it."
His jaw ticked. "You don't speak to me like that."
"Oh no?" I said sweetly. "Too late."
He looked about ready to combust, but the waiter interrupted with perfect timing.
"Here's your coffee, ma'am."
"Thanks," I said with a soft smile.
"Would you like anything, sir?"
Chris didn't look away from me. "No."
"Alright then. Enjoy your coffee."
"Oh, I will," I replied. "Thanks."
"You know what happens when you talk to me like that." Chris muttered, dragging my attention back from the waiter's surprisingly gifted backside.
"For the last time, don't call me baby girl," I snapped. "I'm neither a baby nor a girl, and I'll speak to you however I damn well please."
His face darkened. "Stop talking to me like that."
"Or what?" I leaned in, eyes narrowed. "You'll hit me again? You must've forgotten—this Angel doesn't cower. This Angel fights back."
He smirked. "Gonna call the police again, little miss braveheart?"
I leaned back, sipping my coffee with a calm he didn't deserve. "Nope. Not this time. I know better. Next time you touch me, Roman will remove your head from your shoulders. And we both know he'd enjoy it."
Chris's jaw clenched so hard I thought he might crack a tooth. I smiled wider.
"So," I added sweetly, "if I were you, I'd stay the hell away from me."
I patted his shoulder like a child being told to behave, dropped cash for my coffee—and a generous tip for the heavenly waiter—and walked out like the queen I was becoming.
I got into my car, met Chris's eyes through the window, and winked. Then I drove off, cool as hell.
Once I was far enough away, the bravado crumbled. I exhaled hard, knuckles white on the steering wheel.
"What the hell was I thinking?" I muttered. "I practically taunted the devil."
He had once dragged me into hell and convinced me it was home. He shattered everything I believed about love and self-worth. But not this time.
Not anymore.
I forced the thoughts away as I pulled into my driveway. My head was still pounding, and I didn't bother grabbing my meds from the car. They'd still be there later. I just needed sleep.
The house was empty. Good. No questions. No worried parents. Just silence. And that was perfect!
I grabbed an apple from the fridge and trudged to my room. I barely made it to the bed before collapsing face-first. But then—ugh. Sweat. Itchy everywhere. Gross.
Grumbling, I dragged myself into the bathroom and took the fastest shower of my life. Still damp and wrapped in a towel, I collapsed again on my bed.
And passed out the moment my head hit the pillow.