Red Flag - Prologue

I couldn’t believe I’d finally taken the plunge. Me! The most careful,  plan-oriented woman on the planet threw caution to the wind and moved across country for a relationship of all things. Maybe the pandemic, followed by years of true isolation, finally emboldened me enough to leave the only town in coastal Oregon I’d ever known. Or maybe it was the 6+ solid months of near-constant communication, travel, and love-bombing charms of Dean. Ever the pragmatic, I would have never done something so wild before, but even I understood our long-distance status had to change if we wished to go forward, and I was the most portable.

To be truthful, I was never attached to my hometown, and while I dated a few guys before, I found nothing long-term. Even my few acquaintances were far from what I would call a friend. Then again, growing up as a foster kid in a broken system would make a lone wolf out of just about anyone. Then the world shut down en masse, putting a whole new spin on “self-sufficient,” and I found myself perusing a dating app for no other reason than to have someone to talk to about the little things. That’s how I met Dean.

Dean slid into my DM’s saying all the most outrageous things. He was funny and loud and hailed from this gorgeous little town in upstate New York that looked carved out of a Hallmark movie. As jarring as some of our talks were, I was intrigued by his brash nature. We started in a whirlwind of texting followed by weeks of back-and-forth calls before he surprised me with a visit, white roses in hand, and a big grin on his face. I was instantly dazzled, if not overwhelmed, by his handsome, grunge-chic demeanor. Nearly a head taller than my small stature, his dark hair and grizzled beard had a small sprinkle of silver mixed in that added to his boyishly mischievous smile. A bit reckless and wilder than I, he was also intensely attentive, a welcomed change in my otherwise isolated life. That whole first weekend together was a fairytale of hand-holding, hugs, and lingering kisses. He never missed a chance at a grand romantic gesture, and I found myself breathless just to trying to keep up with him. I learned quickly that Dean was never afraid to speak his mind. We texted constantly and ended almost every night with a video chat as we ate dinner together and shared our daily lives. Mine was always a fairly short share, emphasized by the enormity of his life as a fireman. His stories were always filled with danger and adrenaline, and I often found myself awestruck. On the days we couldn’t video chat due to his work or distance challenges, we’d always have a quick phone call when he ended his day. Dean said our calls were his anchor, and he insisted that we share every detail of every day so that neither of us would feel alone. It was endearing, and I found myself looking forward to our calls each day, too.

He was always so sweet, even if a little overzealous at times.

Dean flew to see me twice. Twice more, he paid for me to fly to a third-party destination as a mini-vacation of sorts, where we spent most of our time in bed together. Sex with Dean was like everything else: brash and wild and sometimes a little more than I bargained for. And the adventures we’d go on during the days were the same. He pushed my limits, encouraging me out of my shell. Everything about Dean was intense, including the speed at which it progressed.

Dean was an essential worker in his hometown as part of the fire department, whereas my social media marketing job was web-based. I could go anywhere I had wifi. My current contract was drawing to a close as our time shuffling long-distance began to wear thin. He shared so many stories about the ties holding him to his home and career that it felt impractical for him to move when it would be easier for me to relocate. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine a life of being essential, and I confess to a highly romanticized ideal of what it would be like to move to a town where my boyfriend was so well-known. So, nerves aside, I took the leap.

Dean poured over job listings each day and sent me links we’d talk about every night. I sent off a few resumes and had a few good job interviews, but it was a New York-based tech start-up willing to pay relocation fees with a 2-year contract that piqued my interest. The job offer came the same day a beautiful bouquet of white roses arrived with a card reading, “I already knew you were a shoo-in”. Dean sent more roses every day for a week in celebration, as well as a bottle of celebratory champagne. He would have sent me roses had I not begged him to stop, claiming impracticality but withholding that the sickly sweet scent was making my head hurt. Dean wanted to help with the move, but he didn't have that kind of time off after so many vacations. Instead, he sent me boxes and reserved the moving truck. The drive was long and peaceful, a quiet time I enjoyed. I had surprisingly few connections in Oregon at all, and uprooting my life into a small moving truck with my car trailer to the back was jarringly easy. The future looked blindly bright and a little nerve-wracking as I crossed that first state line. Each border crossed after that was more and more exciting.

No going back.

 Arriving in Upstate New York in late July was like falling into a movie. The temperature change was slight, but the scenery was nothing short of breathtaking. Oregon had trees and the ocean, but the Adirondack Mountains were stunning to behold, and their narrow, windy roads in and around the hilly terrain were idyllic. Especially with the way the afternoon sunlight dappled through the broad green leaves of trees I’d only ever seen in TV shows and movies. I found a small apartment in Lake Placid, and I couldn’t wait to see the tree-lined water come fall. My new place was tiny but fully furnished and affordable enough on a month-to-month basis that it wouldn’t eat into my savings too much before the new job started paying. The drive took me a solid 7 days to complete, and my phone died somewhere outside of Akron, Ohio, so it was no surprise that Dean wasn’t at my new place when I arrived. I didn’t want him to worry about me, so I plugged in my phone, set it on the empty kitchen counter, and started unpacking while it charged. I checked the display periodically, expecting a slew of missed calls and texts, but there was nothing. I thought it was odd, but I figured Dean was just called away for work. I mentally prepared myself for the life of a firefighter girlfriend and the period times of no-contact I would have to endure, so this wasn’t entirely unexpected. I dropped Dean a single line of text between trips back and forth with boxes that included a selfie of me. Sure, I was a sweaty mess, but nothing. A tight ponytail and a solid filter couldn’t fix, right?

Me:  Guess who’s officially a townie! *Heart emoji* *smiley emoji*

After another hour, and after all my boxes were unloaded, I still had no response. I called and left a voicemail that I was going to need some help returning the U-Haul after I grabbed a shower and I hoped he might have time to meet me at the storage place. But again, my message went unanswered. I was slightly worried since it wasn’t like Dean not to at least drop me a line back, if not ten lines back. Even between fire calls, he’d always toss me a quick, “Hey doll face, busy day, back later”. The radio silence was unnerving, but I needed to return to the U-Haul before they closed or risk being charged an extra day. So I called an Uber to pick me up at the storage facility where I dropped the truck off. Turning in the keys, I checked my phone for the tenth time and still had no response from Dean. Entering the Uber, I gave the driver a last-minute change of address.

God…I wished I hadn’t done that.

Pulling up to Dean’s address, I got out and stood in front of a small cabin surrounded by a wrap-around porch and tall green trees all around. Dean’s Jeep parked in the gravel driveway gave me a little rush of excitement as I walked up the steps to the front door. He'd talked about that thing so many times I could just envision us taking scenic drives as he showed me around my new hometown. Knocking on the door, I could hear the faint thump of music. He was home and his favorite classic rock tunes were filling the air. I couldn’t help but smile despite my mild irritation as the flood of butterflies erupted in my belly. When Dean didn't answer, I knocked a second time and waited before pulling out my phone and firing off a text.

Me: Surprise...I’m here! 

I waited a minute, maybe two, while I looked through the windows, but there was no response. Strolling around the corner of the porch, I hit redial, and when my phone rang for Dean, I heard the ringing from outside the house as well as through my phone. Following the sound, I walked off the porch, around the back of the house, where I picked up the thick crunch of a whacking sound. The closer I got to the ringing, the louder the crunching was. Dean’s voicemail picked up, and I said his name. “Dean?” The rhythmic thwacking stopped as I rounded the final corner to see Dean standing in front of a giant wooden tree stump sliced smooth, low, and close to the ground. There was another log on top, deftly split down the middle by a shirtless and sweaty Dean holding a giant axe. He dropped the axe to the side as he smiled down at the ground with a little shake of his head.

“Moira, Moira. What a surprise.” His odd smile never left the ground as he grabbed the freshly split logs, one in each hand, and tossed them to a pile off to the side. “What brings you to my neck of the woods?”

What brings me to his neck of the woods?

All the hairs on my neck stood on end as his cool greeting washed over me. I expected surprise, sure, but also…I don’t know what. Elation maybe, or at the very least, happiness. I mean we talked about me being here for months. We reviewed the details and made plans. Dean even viewed my apartment for me before I paid the deposit. We talked about this ad nauseum and he was so excited for me to be here…wasn’t he?

“I tried to call and text you earlier today. My cell died in Ohio, so I couldn’t do anything until I got to my new place and - “

“Yeah, I got those. I was pretty busy here, as you can see.” He loaded another log onto the platform and waved around with his ax as if his need to chop wood in the middle of summer made sense somehow.

I started to walk forward for a hug, but hesitated. His aloof and distant manner was so far removed from the Dean I knew. Or...thought I knew?

“Dean, I’m sorry if me show - “

“Why are you sorry?” He cut me off abruptly. “I never mind having company.” He swung his axe and split the log in two with a deafening crack that made me jump. “Would you like something to drink…a beer, maybe?” He tossed the two logs into the same pile as before and turned towards the house.

Would I like a beer…what am I, a passing neighbor here for a friendly chat?

I stood there, mouth open and eyes wide as he lumbered up the steps and slid open the back door of his house. My feet moved of their own volition, and I followed his path, playing over the previous weeks of communication with him and wondering if I had made some horrible mistake. I took one step into his house and stood back against the glass door as he turned down the music and turned towards the kitchen. Again, not looking at me but smiling that same smirk, he just shook his head and mumbled my name.

“Ah, Moira, Moira.” Anger flashed up my spine as he opened his fridge and grabbed two beers, swiftly discarding their lids and crossing to finally meet me and, at last, look me in the eyes. “Beer?”

“What?” I muttered. “Dean, I don’t understand.”

“Where’s the confusion, you either want the beer or not?" He cocked up a sneer and shoved a cold bottle in my hand, and sent the cap flying to the floor with a twist. "God, you are so hard to read sometimes,” he mumbled as he turned his back to me again to sit on a barstool.

“I thought you might be waiting for me at my new place.” I grimaced down at the nauseatingly skunky beer.

“Why?” He smiled, taking a swig of his beer and letting his eyes roam the room. “You said yourself your phone died. I couldn’t have known you were gonna show up today, now could I?”

What was happening? This cold and distant behavior was so far removed from the eager and attentive man who had once flown to Oregon just to have dinner with me. Surely, I was missing something crucial.

“Sure. Okay. I guess.” I took a few steps towards him and cleared my throat. Maybe I’m just misreading things. I did show up out of the blue, and maybe he’s just tired from chopping wood. Maybe if I just relax, he will too, I thought. “Well, I got myself moved in and managed to return the moving truck in time. I had to take an Uber since I couldn’t get ahold of you, and that’s when I thought I would just - “

“Show up over here unannounced?” He smirked again and took a swig of his beer. “Yeah, I figured that part out all on my own, sweetheart.”

“Okay. Look. I can tell something’s up here. I’m not sure what I’ve done, but - “

Dean stood abruptly, his stool screeching across the tile floor, and took two swift steps toward me. A move so fast that a barely audible yelp slipped out of me.

“Look, Moira. Was there something you needed from me or…” He let his words trail off as he stared me dead in my eyes, trailing his intense gaze from my face down my body and back up again. He never flinched…never blinked.

I stood, mouth hanging open again as my free hand twisted into a fist against my stomach. I felt the burning sting of tears welling in the corners of my eyes but desperately tried to stop them. I couldn’t cry, not here. Not now. 

I have to fix this.

“Why are you acting like this?” My voice was weaker than I wanted it to be, but it was all I could muster while fighting eager tears from spilling over. “We talked about this. About me coming here.”

Dean glared a beat longer, scanning his eyes down my body once more and smirking. “Moira, Moira. What am I gonna do with you?” His eyes burned through my clothes, through my boundaries, straight to the heart of me. I felt naked and exposed and suddenly very, very embarrassed.

“Stop saying my name like that!” An angry flush rose on my cheeks. “Just tell me why you’re - “

“No need to get hysterical, sweetheart.” Dean gave my chin a little flick with his thumb as he brushed past my shoulder and headed back towards the door.

Traitorous tears fell down my cheeks, now hot with anger and humiliation. My mind raced through every detail, sifting the sands of memory and time to figure out what happened. I had allowed Dean to push me beyond my boundaries time and again, convincing myself it was good for me to branch out and break free from my lift of isolation. But surely I didn't concoct this relationship in my head, did I? The faster my thoughts raced, the darker his intentions seemed until I came to the one conclusion that made the most sense. The only way any of this made a sort of sick and twisted sense.

“You,” I swallowed past the lump in my throat, willing my words to be more than a whimpering plea. "You played me."

“Aw come on now, Moira. I thought we had a lot of fun.” He slid the glass door open and stepped outside as he continued. “I’m sorry you don’t feel the same.” Don’t feel the same? Don’t feel the same!? I spun on my heels and stomped out the door behind him as I wiped the tears off my face. 

“No. NO! Dean.” He continued walking down the steps, and I was right behind him. “We made plans for months. You knew I was coming; you WANTED me to come.”

“Did we talk about all that?” Dean asked, crossing to where his axe was lying. “I can’t recall. I mean God, you did text and call me a LOT. A guy can hardly be expected to remember everything.”

“No! You called, you texted, you flew out to see me and - “

“We had some fun, sweetheart. You were a lot of fun. I needed a distraction when the world went a little nutty, and we had some good times. If you thought it was more than that, well…that seems like a you problem.” I watched in shock as he casually lifted a log to the platform. The bastard was literally going to continue chopping wood after this. After I uprooted my whole life…and moved?

“A YOU PROBLEM!” I tried to step in front of him, but he brushed past me like I was nothing. “You made me move across the country. I changed jobs for you. I gave up my entire life because you said, ‘You couldn’t come to me’.” I waved angry air quotes, still hoping beyond hope he’d remember that he asked me to be here. He wanted me here; I was absolutely sure of that. And yet, how could he treat me this way? With every question left unanswered, my rage boiled over until debased humiliation rose to the surface.

“I think what you are remembering is your old job was already ending, and I offered to help you find a new job,” He tossed his hands out to the side with a shrug. “cause I’m a nice guy like that. And you chose to move out here when I told you I wouldn’t come that direction.” He reached for his axe before finishing. “I was trying to be nice, but clearly, you got some mixed signals.”

“Dean, NO. That’s not true, and you know it!”

Why am I begging? Stop begging, you fool.

He swung his axe so close to my face that I jerked back, my hand smarting at the briefest contact the axe whisked past me. The deafening crack made my heart skip a beat, and nausea began to rise as my reality came crashing down around me.

“Might wanna steer clear, sweetheart.” He smirked as he reared back for a second swing. He moved so quickly I all but had to jump back, and I swear I heard a laugh rumble up out of him. “Look.” He huffed as he tossed the axe to the ground and grabbed the split pieces. “ I can see you’re going through something, and I don’t wanna make this about me. But you are kinda putting me on the spot.”

“I’m putting YOU on the spot?” I could hardly believe the lies dripping so easily from Dean's lips.

“I mean, we had some good times, no doubt. You were fun. But that was it. You made this wild decision to move out here all on your own." Stopping his work, he straightened his back and locked his gaze on me. "And now you show up at my door, unannounced, and act shocked that I wasn’t...what?” Dean's face held a now familiar dead-in-the-eye stare that sent chills running down my spine. Moving only a fraction, he put his face so close that I nearly tasted the sour musk of his sweat mingled with the beer on his breath. “What did you think was gonna happen here, Moira?” His voice was almost taunting and in it's wake my stomach rolled as I clenched a fist, trying futilely to hold back a fresh wave of tears.

“You told me you wanted me here. You helped me find a job.”

“Yes. Lord knows you seemed too helpless to take care of things yourself since your contract was ending and you had nothing lined up. I took pity on you.” His face was soft and, in any other scenario, might have seemed caring, but now, it was miserable, and the pity he bore was suffocating.

“No. You paid for the moving truck, and…you said you cared about-”

“Moira, Moira.” He grumbled, taking one rough hand and stroking the back of it down my cheek, wiping away a fresh tear. “I thought I was helping out an orphan with no family. It was charity…nothing more. But frankly, I got my own shit at work to deal with, and I can’t carry you anymore.” My heart sank. Hooking a finger into the collar of my shirt he tugged me towards him and leaned in close until his forehead was touching mine before whispering. “You know, It’s not fair of you to lay anymore of your problems on me when I was just trying to be a nice guy who helped clean up your mess.” A wave of humiliation as the intimacy of his touch and the truth of my reality crashed down around me. I had been well and truly played. This man, this bastard of a man, convinced me to give up my whole life and move across the country, and I was the idiot who let him. I was the idiot who thought I’d won some fairytale ending after a long-distance romance and an even longer terrible life of solitude. A fresh sob escaped, and I dropped the beer I forgot I was still holding. I looked down and watched as it spilled over the top of my foot, soaking it through before running out between Dean and me.

“Hm.” He smirked. “Guess you’ll be expecting me to clean up that mess too, won’t you, Moira?” The way he said my name suddenly made me sick, evident in a fresh wave of anger and nausea rising within me. It was all I could do not to hurl all over his stupid, arrogant face, but before I could muster up even a single word, Dean shocked me again with a kiss on my cheek. “I’m due for a poker game in the City tonight. Let’s not make this an awkward thing.” He slid a piece of my hair out of my face and tucked it behind my ear. Turning back to his house, he yelled. “I gotta clean up. You can show yourself out, right?” He entered his house, sliding the glass door close behind him, and never once looked back.