It Ends with Us

huge impact on my life. Someone who meant a lot to me. She still means a lot to
me
.’
”
I put the newspaper on the counter. “I don’t want to read anymore.” My
voice cracks on its way up my throat.
Ryle takes two swift steps forward and grabs the newspaper. He picks up
where I left off, his voice loud and angry now. “When asked if the girl was
aware he named a restaurant after her, Chef Corrigan smiled knowingly
and said, ‘
Next question
.’
”
The anger in Ryle’s voice makes me nauseous. “Ryle, stop it,” I say
calmly. “You’ve had too much to drink.” I push past him and walk quickly
out of the kitchen toward the hallway that leads to our bedroom. There’s
so much happening right now and I’m not sure I understand any of it.
The article never stated who Atlas was talking about. Atlas knows it was
me and 
I
know it was me, but how in the hell would Ryle put two and two
together?
And the magnet. How would he know that came from Atlas just by
reading that article?
He’s overreacting.

---

I can hear him following me as I walk toward the bedroom. I swing
open the door and come to a sudden halt.
The bed is littered with things. An empty moving box with the words,
“Lily’s stuff,” written on the side of it. And then all the contents that were
inside that box. Letters . . . journals . . . empty shoeboxes. I close my eyes
and breathe in slowly.
He read the journal.
No.
He. Read. The. Journal.
His arm comes around my waist from behind. He slides a hand up my
stomach and takes a firm hold of one of my breasts. His other hand
feathers my shoulder as he moves the hair away from my neck.
I squeeze my eyes shut, just as his fingers begin to trace across my skin,
up to my shoulder. He slowly runs his finger over the heart and a shudder
runs over my whole body. His lips meet my skin, right over the tattoo, and
then he sinks his teeth into me so hard, I scream.
I try to pull away from him, but he has such a tight grip on me he
doesn’t even budge. The pain from his teeth piercing my collarbone rips
through my shoulder and down my arm. I immediately start crying.
Sobbing.
“Ryle, let me go,” I say, my voice pleading. “Please. Walk away.” His
arms are cutting into mine as he holds me tightly from behind.
He spins me, but my eyes are still closed. I’m too scared to look at him.
His hands are digging into my shoulders as he pushes me toward the bed.
I start trying to fight him off of me, but it’s useless. He’s too strong for me.
He’s angry. He’s hurt. 
And he’s not Ryle.
My back meets the bed and I frantically scoot back toward the
headboard, trying to get away from him. “Why is he still here, Lily?” His
voice isn’t as composed as it was in the kitchen. He’s really angry now.
“He’s in 
everything
. The magnet on the fridge. The journal in the box I
found in our closet. The fucking 
tattoo
on your body that used to be my
favorite goddamn 
part of you!”
He’s on the bed now.
“Ryle,” I beg. “I can explain.” Tears streak down my temples and into
my hair. “You’re angry. Please don’t hurt me, 
please
. Walk away, and when
you come back, I’ll explain.”

---

His hand grips my ankle and he yanks me until I’m beneath him. “I’m
not angry, Lily,” he says, his voice disturbingly calm now. “I just think I
haven’t proved to you how much I love you.” His body comes down against
mine and he takes my wrists with one hand above my head, pressing them
against the mattress.
“Ryle, please.” I’m sobbing, trying to push him off of me with any part
of my body. “Get off me.