I wipe my face with the back of my hand, but the tears keep coming.I have to get home. I have to protect my baby.
The pit in my stomach grows heavier as another realization creeps in—Timmy has shown me, time and time again, that when he gets like this, he doesn’t just stop at words. He damages things. He breaks things, destroys what he can’t control. And right now, he’s alone with everything I own—everything I’ve built and cared for.It’s only stuff, I tell myself, trying to be rational.
But it’smystuff. And he’s already cost me so much. If I don’t get back in time, what else will he take from me?
My phone buzzes again, but I can’t bring myself to look at it right away. Instead, I clutch it in my hand, rocking slightly in place, trying to steady my breathing. What if he follows through on these threats? What if I lose Sabre? What if I lose everything?
I shake my head, trying to force the spiral of fear to stop. But it’srelentless, wrapping itself tighter and tighter around my mind.I need to get back.
I wipe my face again, trying to collect myself, but it’s useless. I’m unraveling.
The thought of walking back into that apartment terrifies me—facing Timmy, his rage, the unpredictable storm that he’s become. But I know I don’t have a choice.
I have to go.
For Sabre.
For me.
121
A LONG NIGHT
“Margaux, dear, he seems like he’s on gear or something.” Charlie squeezes my arm, her voice gentle but weighted with concern. Her expression is serious, her brows knitted, as if she’s carefully choosing her words.
“Gear?” I echo, a nervous laugh escaping me. “What do you mean? Like… drugs?”
She nods. “Yeah. He just doesn’t stop talking. His speech is so fast, and he keeps repeating himself. I don’t know—it’s just weird. Even earlier, his behavior seemed really off, like he’s not all there.”
Her words hit me like a cold slap to the face. It’s the first time someone from the outside has mirrored back the things I’ve started to notice but haven’t dared to say out loud. Timmy’s chaotic energy—something I’ve grown used to, even when it’s exhausting—suddenly feels like a glaring problem. Through her eyes, I can see what she means.
It makes me feel a little defensive, though, a little embarrassed. Nobody wants to hear their partner described like that, especially from someone they trust. “I mean... that’s just kind of how he is,” I say weakly, feeling the need to explain him. “He gets really excited sometimes.”
She tilts her head sympathetically but doesn’t back down. “Excited is one thing, Margaux, but this—” she gestures vaguely in a random direction, seeing she wasn’t there when he peeled off in the truck—“this is something else. He doesn’t seem right in the head.”
I want to argue, but the truth is lodged in my throat, uncomfortable and undeniable. I know exactly what she’s talking about. Timmy’s frenetic energy can feel exhilarating when it’s directed the right way—like a spark of inspiration that lights up everything around him. But when it spirals, it’s suffocating. Like trying to hold on to a tornado. And tonight, it wasn’t just suffocating—it was terrifying.
“I get it,” I say, my voice low. “He was... off today. I don’t know what that was.”
Her son, Jackson, flashes through my mind—the awkward tension in the car, Timmy’s reckless driving, the sickening stories he kept telling. My stomach churns with guilt. I feel terrible for putting them in that position. I never would’ve introduced them if I’d known Timmy was going to act like that.
I sigh heavily, the weight of everything pressing down on me. “I’m really sorry this happened, Charlie. I didn’t mean for things to get like that.”
Charlie gives me a warm but worried smile, wrapping me in a hug. “Don’t apologize. I’m just glad we’re all okay. But areyouokay?”
“I’ll be fine,” I say, though the words feel empty.
“Are you sure? Because, Margaux... he’s acting fucking nuts.”
I force a smile, though my heart feels heavy with doubt. “He’ll calm down eventually. He always does. I’ll be okay.”
Charlie pulls back and searches my face with concern. “I really hope so. If you ever need anything—just call me, okay?”
I nod, feeling the sting of tears threatening to surface. She gives me another squeeze before I climb into the Uber that finally arrives. As the car pulls away, I watch her standing there, her worried expression lingering in my mind long after she’s out of sight.
The Uber ride back takes nearly an hour, giving me more thanenough time to think—but my thoughts are jumbled, spinning in frantic circles.
I stare out the window, watching the night slip past in a blur of streetlights and shadows. My mind replays the events of the day, over and over, like a broken record. Timmy’s manic energy, the way he kept pushing boundaries, laughing at things that weren’t funny, driving like a man possessed. And then the switch—how quickly he turned cruel, throwing out wild accusations like grenades, leaving me stunned and scrambling to make sense of what just happened.