I honestly can't even remember how we ended up back together this time, but by April, he was moving into my townhouse after being evicted from his 5-bedroom house in Centennial. Looking back now, it kind of makes sense. They say no one falls in love faster than a narcissist who needs a place to stay.
So, it was him, his daughter, and me, all living together in the townhouse. His daughter was now with us full-time, and honestly, I loved our little family and the new routine. It felt good to finally be a family.
But, of course, it wasn’t all smooth sailing. I vividly remember, not long after he moved in, when he broke two of my ribs. And shortly after that, he bear-maced me as I was trying to run upstairs to escape him. This time, it also affected his daughter, because the mace fumes filled the entire townhouse.
I could barely move when my ribs were broken. The pain was excruciating; I couldn't even lift my comforter off the bed.
A friend from Loveland came over soon after it happened. He helped me downstairs and onto the couch, plugged in my phone charger, and made sure I was settled in. He offered to take me to the hospital, but I refused. I didn't know it then, but those would be the last words he ever spoke to me, as he tragically died in a motorcycle accident a few months later.
He said to me, "Tara, I can't keep coming to help you if you're just going to keep going back to him."
I really wish I'd listened to my friend, but of course, I know now that this isn’t how everything ended.
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