The man I’ve thought about far too often, even when I shouldn’t have. Especially when I shouldn’t have.
I’ve been far too embarrassed to reach out to him, for one thing. But I’ve also been defensive—protective of Timmy—and I know Dex would have pushed me to end things long ago.
More than anything, it’s embarrassing being in a cycle of abuse. Every time the cycle begins again, hope rises—then it deflates like a sad balloon… and that’s, well… mortifying.
Because every time you forgive them, you really believe in their will to change. That they mean the promises they make.
It’s exhausting, and I feel like an idiot for giving Timmy so many chances despite the growing evidence that he is an evil person, and the only outcome of staying with him—as my sister said—would have been my funeral.
But I can’t think of that.
I answer the phone just before it goes to voicemail. “Hello?” My voice comes out shaky, a reminder that I haven’t spoken out loud much lately.
I’ve been sheltered in my apartment, scared and frantic.
“Hey, Margaux,” Dex says, his voice warm and familiar. It’s deeper than I remember, like it’s been steeped in late nights and hard whiskey. “I just wanted to check in. How are you holding up?”
The question is simple, but it unravels me. I start to cry, tears streaming down my face before I can stop them. “I’m… I’m okay,” I manage between sobs.
There’s a pause on the other end, and then he speaks again. “It’s okay to not be okay, you know, Margaux. You’ve been through a lot.”
He must have been keeping track of my public social media meltdown.Great.
Blood rushes to my cheeks.
But I quickly get over my embarrassment. Dex listens as I unload everything—the restraining order, the move, the fear, the guilt.
I cry as I speak. He doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t try to fix it. He just listens. He’s justtherefor me.
“I should’ve called you sooner,” I say, wiping my face. “But I didn’t want to burden you.”
“Burden me?” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Margaux, you could never be a burden. Besides, I’m here, aren’t I?”
His words are a balm, soothing the raw edges of my emotions.
And there’s a softness to him now, a side I didn’t know existed.
Dex has always been confident, sharp, and—let’s be honest—devastatingly hot. But this? This patience, this gentleness? It’s enough to undo me all over again.
“Let me help,” he says. “I’ll fly out, help you move the last of your things.”
“No, Dex, that’s too much. You don’t have to?—”
“I’m not asking,” he interrupts, his tone firm but kind. “I’m coming. And when you’re ready, you can stay at my spare apartment back in California. No strings, no expectations. Just… a place where you can breathe.”
I’m crying again, but this time it’s from relief. “Thank you,” I whisper.
“You don’t have to thank me,” he says softly. “Just promise me one thing.”
“What?”
“Let me be there for you,” his tone is gravely, soothing. Hot as hell. “No shutting me out this time.”
I can hear the sincerity in his voice, and it makes my chest ache. “I promise.”
After we hang up, he sends me his flight confirmation, and I find myself counting down the hours until I see him.
Until I’m in the presence of someone who doesn’t need anything from me, who doesn’t expect me to shrink myself to fit their world.