Stacy — Help me protect you

Kenny, Scott's male best friend, always said that I was girlfriend goals for Scott, because we never argued. Well we were about to debunk that myth on the sidewalk of a busy New York road.

"I have to go," I said, making my way to the door of the bakery.

Conflicting thoughts went through my head. I knew, with absolute certainty, that the door to me having any sort of life outside of being Luca's wife would close when I got on that plane. But what choice did I have now that I'd exposed Scott's existence to the entire mafia?

"Stacy, wait," I heard Scott call out to me.

I couldn't see his face, but I was so caught up in my own feelings that it wouldn't have mattered what he looked like anyway. Behind the fear and the paranoia, I was just exhausted. Trying to run from being Don Angelo's daughter had drained me.

Something in me snapped and I exclaimed, "You're not going to change my mind. This wedding is happening."

Even as I said the words, briskly walking to keep Scott from catching up with me, a part of me hated the idea of him not chasing after me. When he caught up to me, I felt a short-lived sense of relief. That was until he spoke.

"If that's really what you want, then go right ahead. Let your dad manipulate you for the rest of your life," he said with venom in his voice.

I stopped on the corner of the street, a fresh face passing me by every second. Just taking in the city that had become my home while I summoned every scrap of courage I could.

"Everytime I go back, I go back for you. Because I know if I don't go back, he'll come out here and find you next to me. And it doesn't matter if you don't think we're important, Mr. I don't feel anything for anyone, because he will," I said, revealing a painful fear that I had been holding on to for years.

"Don't stand there and use me as your scapegoat. You go back every time he calls you because you're terrified of letting go. Of declaring a damn major. You say you want your own life, but you won't risk shit to make it happen."

Scott's words went to my head. So much so that I spent the rest of the day riding the subway. By the end of it, however, I finally had the courage to take the plunge. I declared a major and shot Don Angelo a text saying I wasn't coming home.

"Daddy's going to kill me," I panicked, exactly one minute after the departure time of my flight. "I'm doing this. I'm rejecting Don Angelo's orders. I'm staying in New York and blackmailing daddy for my freedom. It's the only way to protect Scott. This is crazy. I'm crazy."

I was afraid of my phone. If I turned it back on and daddy called, I didn't know for sure that I wouldn't back away from the plan like I had so many times before.

I didn't know I wouldn't be on the next flight to Chicago despite the leverage my dead man's switch gave me. Would daddy believe Scott wasn't important to me if I played that card? No. Too late. Don Angelo didn't take defiance lightly.

The panic and fear got the better of me as I tried to sort through how to enact my plan. Seven years of planning. Of almost using the dead man's switch against Don Angelo and chickening out at the last second.

Scott's pleading eyes as he asked me to stay. The kiss that followed. Evidently what I needed all these years was the right incentive AKA Scott Brady.

"Fuck it," I said, grabbing my keys and purse and getting into a cab in the dead of the night.

"What the fuck am I going to say?" I said to no one in particular.

I made the cab driver go round and round the block of Scott's apartment complex for a good half an hour before the man finally said, "You do have cash, right?"

That was my cue to get out. I spent the elevator ride pacing up and down, wringing my hands.

Feeling completely deflated, I sighed. By the time I was standing in front of Scott's apartment, I had gone through a million scenarios for how our conversation would play out. My hands were shaking as I made a fist to knock.

I was on the verge of breaking. Of taking it all back and throwing myself at Don Angelo's mercy. He wouldn't show Scott mercy though. The image of Scott lying in a ditch, a bullet in his brain, kept me off that plane.

Scottie, I need you. Help me protect you.

I spent the day going through a million scenarios for how my conversation with Scott would play out. My hands were shaking as I made a fist to knock.

Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. When the door finally opened, it revealed a young brunette. For a second, I thought I was at the wrong apartment.

"3B?" I asked.

"Yes, who is asking?" she asked.

She was beautiful. Couldn't have been older than nineteen. After pretending to size me up for a few moments, recognition crossed her face.

"Nevermind," I said hurriedly, turning around to leave.

"Kidding. You're Stacy, of course I know that," she said, reaching out to touch my shoulder. "Saw you on the news this morning."

"That was—"

"Scott's being a little bitch, if you ask me. Team Stacy all the way. Come on in," she said, taking my hand and pulling me into the apartment.

I looked around the apartment like I'd never been there before. Everything was the same and yet somehow different.

"Coming here was a bad idea," I muttered under my breath, as we entered the living room.

"He's been brooding in his dark room for ages now. Don't worry though. I'll have him out in two shakes," she said with a wink.

"I wouldn't intrude on his dark room time. It makes him grumpy. Also, who are you?" I turned around and asked, but she was already gone.

I sat down slowly, my eyes drifting to all the ways to exit this room. That moment when he turned his back on me and walked away hit me hard and suddenly I couldn't breathe.

The presence of the random girl in his apartment didn't help.

No, I didn't stay in New York to be Scott Brady's girlfriend. So why did the idea of him not wanting me hurt so badly?