Timmy is spiraling, knowing he’s lost all control over me.
This is a very dangerous time for everyone. In his current state, there’s no telling what he might do.
Especially for me. And for my cat.
I fire up the truck and race back toward the apartment as quickly as I can, every second feeling like an eternity, the brutal heat making me feel even more flustered and on edge.
On the way, I call Jo.
“Margaux, I want to let you know I’m just so proud of you,” she says. “I know, from personal experience, how hard it is to leave a relationship like this, but you’re doing the right thing. You’re getting out, and you’re doing it the right way. I’m so glad you’re not getting your own Dateline episode.”
The drive itself is frustrating, with only one lane in and one lane out of this part of the Cay. The road wraps around the coast, hosting both laidback locals and easygoing tourists who’ve come to explore the area’s rugged, natural beauty.
There’s an ambulance in front of me, and for a moment I think his father might be right—he might have actually triedto kill himself. But it pulls into the high school next to my apartment complex.
For a fraction of a second I wonder if he’s gone there to do something silly—and I won’t lie—for that instant,I wish he had.
But let’s be realistic—Timmy is a master manipulator. He’s not going to harm himself—he’s going to make me pay.
I pull into the parking lot, race to the apartment, and immediately scan for signs of Timmy. The coast is clear. No doubt he’s still over at the meth tents concocting stories to tell his father about how horrible I am.
Whipping himself up into a homicidal rage.
Sabre meows softly when he sees me. I scoop him up and place him in his carrier. Parched by the drive and drained by my emotions, I grab two sparkling waters on my way out, and hustle back to the truck.
As I drive back to the courthouse, Sabre’s sweet meows are a balm to my frazzled nerves.
“You’re safe now,” I whisper. “We’re both going to be okay.”
For the first time all day, I almost believe it.
CHAPTER 133
JAMES BOND SITUATION X SCHRODINGER'S CAT
MARGAUX
When Sabre and I get home, clutching the freshly signed temporary restraining order, I’m greeted by an eerie silence. The apartment is still empty.
For a moment, I let myself hope. Maybe this is it—maybe he’s already gone, maybe he’s decided to leave me in peace.
Then I hear it. The beep. The swish of the door.
Timmy steps inside.
The air feels heavier immediately, the atmosphere suffocating. My hands tremble as I instinctively grab my phone and dial 911.
“What are you doing? Where were you?” His voice is accusatory, already teetering on the edge of fury.
The operator comes on. “Police, fire, or ambulance?”
“Police,” I whisper.
Timmy’s eyes narrow. “Who were you with?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, trying to stall.
“There aretwo cansof sparkling water in the truck!” His voice rises, each word laced with venom. “Who were you driving around with? Who were you on a date with?”