Adam found me.
Adam was in my doorway, standing much closer than the restraining order I once had on him ever allowed.
In that second of recognition I hated the judge, who decided four years without contact from him was enough for it to be lifted. I always knew it was nothing more than a threat, but I also knew that, with its protection, I could have him arrested if he ever came near me.
But that no longer mattered. What did matter was that he was standing at my door, and I was alone. His figure seemed to take up the bulk of the door frame, standing over six feet. He’d grown since I last saw him. Everything else was the same: brown hair, brown eyes, and a hatred for me.
After he spoke, it only took a fraction of a second for my arm to swing the door back in his face. Inches before the
