The Memory of You (Sanctuary Sound #1)(100)

“What?” She shoved him away with such force, he stumbled. She stretched out her arms to keep him back. Her haunted face turned ruddier by the second. “Was this a revenge plan all along? Lull me into feeling safe and then make me doubt my own sanity?”

“Of course not! I love you. I’m trying to help.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.” She stood there, her body trembling.

“You never ask anyone for help, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need it. Let’s focus on the good news—there’s help available.” He picked up the envelope and held it out. “We have to face this, though. I’ll stay with you tonight and drive you to Dr. Saxe’s office tomorrow. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

She snatched the envelope and flung it across the room. “I don’t need a savior. I need someone who trusts me. And someone I can trust.”

“I need someone who’s open to my concerns so we can build something real together instead of something built on sand. Someone who wants answers so she won’t hit me when I kiss her. Someone who won’t hurt herself or my daughter in a stupor because she’s too stubborn to get help.” Ryan reached for her again, but she dodged him. “Steffi, don’t run again. Please let’s handle this like two people who love each other should. Remember we said ‘different better’? That’s what this is. Help me help you. For yourself, and for Emmy and me.”

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t sneak behind my back. You wouldn’t demand I do things your way or force me to remember something awful or confirm a prognosis I don’t want to hear.” Tears streamed down her face as she trembled. “I’m not crazy. I’d remember if I was raped, for God’s sake. Get out, Ryan. Get out!”

She’d said the word—shouted it, actually—yet it didn’t seem to register. She still looked wild-eyed with rage and denial, despite the envelope on the floor.

He reached out to grab her, but she jumped sideways. He stood still and opened his arms wide. “Okay. Calm down. We won’t talk about it anymore tonight, but I’m not leaving you alone like this. We can tear out these cabinets and see how you feel in the morning.”

“I don’t need time. Get out and take that damn file.” When he didn’t move, she screamed, “I mean it! Go or I’ll leave.”

“Steffi, please . . .” He’d bungled this as badly as possible. Instead of making it better, he’d made it all worse. Maybe even damaged her more. Warm tears stung his eyes.

She snatched her keys off the counter and dashed out the back door. He chased after her, but she slammed the van door shut and turned on the engine before he caught up to her. She backed out of the driveway while he banged on the side panel. The tires kicked up pebbles as she sped away.

“Fuck!” he shouted at the moon.

Once again, Steffi ran from him. Last time, he’d let her go. This time he would not. He jogged back to his mom’s to get his car, dialing Steffi’s number while he pulled out of the driveway. Voice mail.

A quick drive-by of her dad’s home and Benny’s apartment turned up empty. No surprise, actually. She wouldn’t turn to them—or anyone—for comfort. He reversed course and drove past her house, relief slackening his shoulders when he saw her van parked out front.

He sprang from his car, trotted up her porch steps, and banged on the door. “Steffi, let me in!”

He heard scuffling from inside.

Claire answered. “Ryan, what happened?”

“Where’s Steffi?” He craned his neck, looking over her shoulder.

“She charged in like a wild animal and went straight to her room.” She stood in the doorway. “Obviously, you two had a fight.”

“Can you let me in? I need to talk to her.”

Claire stood aside and waved him in. He took the stairs two at a time and strode to the only room with a closed door. With his forehead pressed to the door panel, he spoke in a calm voice. “Steffi. Let me in. Please.”

“Go away.”

He flattened his hands against the doorframe and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry about how I handled this. I can’t undo that, but please don’t shut me out again. Even if you deserve to, don’t. Please. I love you.”

Silence.

“Steffi.” He tried the doorknob, but she’d locked it. After a few minutes of waiting, he gave her the space she wanted and wandered back downstairs. She was safe—at least physically safe—for now. Whether he’d caused more harm than good had yet to be determined.

“What’s going on?” Claire asked.

“Try to keep her from leaving tonight. Text me if she goes out.” He turned and walked out the door without another word.

His whole body ached from regret. When he got home, he walked down the street to the bungalow, which they’d left unlocked in their hasty retreat. He went inside and stowed her tools. Before he turned off the lights, he picked up the discarded envelope from the floor. After rummaging through her tool kit for a pencil, he wrote on the outside of the envelope.

Steffi,

I’m sorry I hurt you. I do love you, despite how it might feel right now. Nothing in this file changes who you are to me, and I promise I’ll be with you through this process if you let me.