Chapter 4

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Chapter 4

"Don't you think she's had enough already?" Brad yelled at Vance and yanked his fist away. "She can't take anymore!" he added angrily. He stood square in the doorway, trying to block the entrance.

"Let him in," I said softly as crying hiccups overtook me.

Brad glared back and forth between the two of us before he stepped out of the way and allowed Vance to enter the room.

"Come on, Shelly," Brad said, nodding toward the door, clearly unhappy about the situation.

Shelly turned to me, her face full of compassion. "Are you sure you want me to go?" she asked gently.

I nodded. "I'll be fine," I said, swallowing the large lump in my throat, feeling thankful for friends who cared about my wellbeing so much.

Shelly grabbed her coat on the way out and paused in front of Vance.

"Don't you dare hurt her anymore," she commanded, staring him in the eye. "Do you understand me?" she added when he didn't respond.

Vance still said nothing, flatly returning her gaze. Finally, she pushed past him out the door.

When they were gone, Vance locked the deadbolt and latch behind them. He stood there for a moment, staring at the door before he turned around and walked over to sit on the other bed, across from me. I didn't say anything, watching him as he rubbed his palms together, moving them back and forth slowly. He didn't look at me, appearing to be lost in thought, just staring at his hands. I sat patiently, waiting for him to speak to me when he was ready.

We sat in silence for several long moments, only the sound of my hiccups filling the air, and I was beginning to think he wasn't ever going to say anything when he finally lifted his head and gazed intently at me.

"Portia," was the only thing he said, and he shook his head slightly, giving a deep sigh.

He thrust a hand through his hair, before standing up and shrugging out of his leather jacket. He placed it on the bed and sat back down.

His muscles rippled under the tight t-shirt, which did little to hide the ripped physique beneath. My physical reaction to him would never change, I realized as I felt my pulse quicken.

"I can't do it," he said, looking into my eyes.

"Do what?" I asked, trying to follow.

"Leave you," he answered. "It's tearing me up inside, and it's obviously doing the same thing to you."

"Listen, Vance," I said, pushing myself up to sit cross-legged on the bed. I moved my disheveled hair back from my tearstained face. "I can't do this anymore. You have some decisions to make right now. I will not play this game with you. Do you understand me?"

"Anything you want. Just tell me what to do," he replied with a dejected sigh.

I looked at him hard, trying to gauge his emotions, knowing in the past he had never been one to handle ultimatums well.

"You have to make a choice right now, this minute. Either you commit to me here and now, or you leave. I know you're in pain, but I need to know I can trust you."

"I understand," he said, his gaze not moving from my face.

I paused for a second, feeling more than a little melodramatic, along with also wanting to show him how badly I really felt about everything.

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