Before His Wedding, the Good Girl He Used Quietly Vanished Chapter 10

Before His Wedding, the Good Girl He Used Quietly Vanished Chapter 10

He was leaning against the wall, smoking. The cherry of his cigarette pulsed in the dark.

The streetlight caught the side of his face.

Thinner. Still devastating.

He looked the way he did the first time I ever saw him.

The cigarette hit the ground the second he saw me. He lurched forward, two steps, then stopped. Ten feet between us.

“Willa.”

He said it like the word was something he could hold. Like if he pressed hard enough, it wouldn’t

slip away.

He’d never said my name like that before.

It was always good girl or Willa, easy and slow, like he had all the time in the world.

“What is it?”

I didn’t move. The trash bag was still in my hand.

He looked at me.

Under the streetlight, his eyes were bright and wrecked.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. Once. Twice.

When he finally spoke, his voice was scraped raw. “Come home with me.”

“I’m not going back.”

“Why…”

“Houseplants are easy to keep alive,” I said, cutting him off. “Anyone can take care of one.”

He stared at me. His eyes were growing bloodshot.

“You are not a houseplant.”

Under the light, I could see his eyes shining with unshed tears.

He’d never looked at me like this.

Before, he always looked down at me. The way you’d check on something you owned, making sure

it was still where you left it.

Now he was looking straight at me. Level.

And then he dropped his gaze first.

“Then go buy a houseplant.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” he said.

“You do.” I smiled.

The same smile I’d perfected over six years.

He used to love this smile. Used to call me his good girl when I wore it.

Now it made him flinch.

“You just haven’t found her yet. You will.”

“I won’t…”

“You should.” I tossed the trash bag into the bin and turned toward the building.

I made it two steps before I stopped. I didn’t turn around.

“It’s cold. Go home.”

“Willa! Do you have any idea what the last three years have been like for me?”

“I don’t know. And I don’t care.”

I pushed through the door.

Through the gap as it closed, I saw him start forward, then stop himself.

That was when I finally believed he’d changed.

The old Everett would have forced the door open.

He would have kicked it in. Lock shattered, pieces everywhere.

His logic was simple back then. He kept me, so he decided.

I was nothing more than a pet to him.

He wasn’t that man anymore.

The first time I caught him in bed with someone else, I’d cried and told him I wanted to leave. He grabbed me from behind, carried me back, and pinned me against the wall. “I’m the one keeping you. We’re done when I say we’re done.”

He’d finally learned not to force it.

But it took him three years to wear me down, and another three for me to see him change.

Truth be told, I hadn’t spent those three years waiting for him.

I’d been afraid of him.

Afraid he’d find me. Afraid Ms. Holloway hadn’t hidden me well enough. Afraid my parents would slip and give me away.

Three years of that.

And after all of it, he’d still found me.

But this time, he stopped at the door.