I pulled into the parking lot at Kowalski Studios on Thursday evening ready for my consultation with Jill Kowalski. It was on the first floor of a three-story building in downtown Trenton, only a few blocks away from Rangeman. I wasn't sure if we would be doing anything physical, so I dressed comfortably just in case. I had on black leggings, slip on sneakers, and a green t-shirt. I checked in at the front desk and was told Jill would be with me shortly. It wasn't a fancy place, but efficient and clean. A small waiting area held four chairs and a water cooler. The walls were painted a light gray with posters of people competing in various martial arts championships. I glanced around and realized some were labeled as being Jill Kowalski while others were attributed to two other men and one other woman. I could hear noises from down the hall but wasn't able to see anything from the waiting area. I had been there about five minutes when a woman about my height with blonde hair appeared.

"Stephanie?" she asked. "I'm Jill Kowalski."

She was probably in her mid-to-late forties. Her hair was cut into a pixie style that I could never pull off, but always admired in women who could. We shook hands and she led me down the hall. There were various rooms on either side of me. Some were smaller rooms where people were working one-on-one, and other larger rooms had multiple people practicing martial arts. I even saw a weight room. We made it to a small room at the end of the hall. It was an office and Jill's name was on the door. She closed the door behind us and I took the seat across from her at the large desk.

"Okay, so why don't you tell me what sort of services you're interested in, and we can figure out what program would work out best for you," Jill said, picking up a form and a pen.

"Well, I work in bond enforcement, so I need to be able to handle myself when people don't want to go back to jail. Sometimes they fight me, and sometimes they are a lot bigger than me," I explained.

She nodded and made notes on the paper. "Okay. How long have you been doing this job?"

"About four years."

Jill looked surprised. "Is this your first self-defense program?"

I nodded. "I had some people who helped me out in the past, but I don't want to rely on them anymore. I want to take care of things myself."

"Understandable," she commented, making more notes. "Do you workout?"

"Not really."

She nodded and made more notes.

"Do you have a time constraint or budget in mind?"

"I would like whatever is most effective for the most affordable price," I told her. "Bond enforcement income can be unpredictable, and I'm having to move into a more expensive apartment because of some problems related to my job. But time isn't a factor. I make my own schedule."

"What sort of problems have you run into while doing this job?" Jill asked.

"It would probably be easier to tell you what I haven't run into," I said, but then stopped and thought about it. "I actually can't think of anything I haven't run into. I've been kidnapped, held at gun point, come close to dying multiple times, my apartment has been set on fire multiple times, and we won't even get started on my cars."

Jill raised her eyebrows. "Wow. That's a lot."

"It is," I admitted. "And I've been living in denial about how bad it was for a long time. I let the men in my life help me when I needed it, but I've realized that it has come at the price of them treating me badly. I'm taking care of it all on my own now."

Jill watched me for a second before smiling. "I think we can figure out just what you need," she said. "Let's go in the other room and see what you're working with."

I followed her out of the office and into a small practice room. It had mats on the floor and half-way up the walls. There was a short wall on mirrors at the far end of the room. I was instructed to take my shoes off and leave them along with my bag at the door.

"I'm going to try to attack you. I want you to fight back. Don't be afraid of hurting me," she said. Before I could say anything, she lunged at me, and I dodged out of the way. It wasn't in enough time to avoid her, but it allowed me not to be pinned underneath her.

We did this many times, with Jill trying to get me pinned to the ground in various methods. Sometimes she was successful and other times I managed to clamor away.

"Good," she said after about fifteen minutes of this. She was barely glistening, and her breathing sounded perfectly normal. I was panting and sweating buckets. "You have a lot of good reaction time and instincts. You just need some technique. I think you also would benefit from some weight training."

"Like body-building?" I asked.

"No, just lifting progressively heavier weights on a regular basis. It's good to develop lean muscle. It helps boost your metabolism as well."

Considering I was on the decline in terms of metabolism powers, I thought that sounded like a good idea.

We went back to her office and she did a few things on the computer while I pulled myself together. She had given me a bottle of water when we had come in and I finished it before she done typing.

"Here's my idea," she said after a few minutes. "You would benefit from a couple of weight training lessons and a customized plan development. This would allow you to do the work on your own without having to pay for each session. Do you have a gym?"

"There's one in the building where I'm hoping to live," I told her.

"Good. Then what I would recommend is coming in weekly for about eight to ten weeks to do some defense training. This would help teach you ways to subdue people larger than you while trying not to hurt yourself or them. I think this plan would go a long way in helping you do your job more effectively and keeping yourself safe."

She printed out the proposal for me along with a price list. The two weight-lifting sessions were $50 a piece, then the customized plan would be a one-time fee of $150. Then each defense training session would be $80, bringing the total up to $1050 if I ended up doing the full ten sessions.

"You can pay as you go," she said as I looked over the plan. "Or you can make a one-time payment if that's easier. If you don't use all the sessions, we'll refund those fees."

"I'd like to do this," I told her. "And it would probably be easier to pay up front. I just got a big job done, so I have plenty of money."

"Terrific," she said. "You'll be training with me directly. It's usually easier for me to have someone come at the same time each week, but if you can't do that we can work something out."

We agreed that I would see her on Thursdays from seven to eight in the evening for the next twelve weeks. She wanted me to get my lifting sessions done first so she could write up my plan and I could work on my strength on my own time while we trained on the defense stuff. I paid her for all the sessions before I left.

I felt excited and empowered as I headed back to my parents' house. I could do this. Part of me had doubts, but I wasn't going to let that part win. The excitement faded as I pulled up in front of the house to find Morelli waiting for me. I had been avoiding his calls, but he wasn't going to let up. We were going to need to have this out in person. I had a box in the trunk of things he had left at my apartment and the intention had been to ding-dong-ditch it at his doorstep. But now I could give it to him along with his key.

"Are you going to talk to me or continue to ignore me?" Morelli asked as I got out of my car. I headed to the open trunk and got out the box.

"No, I'm not," I said, thrusting the box into his arms. "Here's your stuff. I put your house keys inside the box of condoms."

He took the box and set it on the ground at his feet. "Will you explain to me what the hell is happening?"

"What's happening is that I'm done being demeaned and belittled. You don't take me seriously, you constantly complain about my job and the things I do, and I'm tired of it. You want me to be something I'm not and I'm not going to waste either of our time anymore."

Morelli's eyebrows shot up. "Look, your job scares the hell out of me, but I'm not trying to make you be someone else. Maybe I don't always handle it well, but I love you and I want you to be safe."

"You and Ranger were talking about me like I was some toy you shared," I said, leaning back on the hood of my car. "It wasn't the first you've done that, but it's going to be the last. I don't want to be with you anymore. It's time for us both to move on."

Morelli looked as though he had been slapped and took a few seconds to recover. I kept bit my bottom lip, determined that I wasn't going to get upset about this.

"What about Ranger?" he asked.

"What about him?"

"What are you going to do about him?"

"You were there when I told you both to stay away. He hasn't tried to call since Monday night, so I think he got the message. I don't want him around either."

Morelli stuck his hands in his pockets and looked down at his shoes. "It's really over then?"

"Yes, it's really over," I told him. "If you have any of my stuff at your place, just drop it off here sometime. Don't worry about my key. I'm moving out. Tomorrow is the last day I'm packing up, then I'm turning in my keys."

He nodded absentmindedly. I suspected he was trying to find something to say to change my mind. But there wasn't anything he could say.

"Okay," he said quietly.

He didn't seem to know what else to say, so he put the box in the backseat of this SUV and drove away.

I headed in the house, where my grandmother and mother tried to behave as though they hadn't been at the window watching us until I headed towards the door.

"I don't want to talk about it," I told Grandma Mazur as she opened her mouth.

She didn't say anything else but nodded and went back to her upside-down crossword puzzle. I headed upstairs to my old room. I laid on my bed and thought about my history with Morelli until I felt asleep.

I woke up on Friday to a phone call from the apartment manager at the Trenton Watch Factory, telling me that I had gotten the apartment I wanted. I would need to bring my deposit and first month's rent in next week and sign the lease. I would be able to move in on September first. I jumped out of bed and hurried down to breakfast.

"I got the apartment I wanted," I informed my family as I sat down. "I get to move in September first."

"That's wonderful!" Grandma Mazur said. "Your mother and I drove past the building the other day. It looks like a nice place, and you won't be so far away anymore. It isn't technically in the Burg, but it's close."

I finished my breakfast and got dressed. I had a few more boxes to pack up at the old apartment before I turned my key in. I had talked to the owners of the apartment and asked them not to go through with the eviction, since I was willing to leave voluntarily. They agreed, but said I had to be out by Friday at five.

I had already packed up my kitchen and living room and part of my bedroom. I would be able to finish the bedroom and bathroom before it was time to turn in my keys. Dillion had been letting me use a cart to get everything down to the car. I had a case of beer waiting for him when I was done.

I had just packed up the last box in my bedroom when I heard my apartment door open. Panicked, I was about to race to my bag for my gun when Ranger appeared in the doorway.

"Jesus, you scared the hell out of me," I said, putting a hand to my racing heart.

He took notice of the boxes on the cart. "Moving out?"

"Yes," I told him. "Why are you here?"

"I wanted to talk to you. Find out what's going on."

"What's going on is that I'm done with you. I'm tired of being played with, and I'm done pretending I don't notice how you treat me."

Ranger leaned against the wall next to the door. "How do I treat you?"

"Like an idiot, like a toy," I said, taping up the box in front of me. "I'm entertainment to you. I'm a good laugh on the boring days in your job, and sometimes I have sex with you. I'm over it. I don't need you rushing into my life to save the day. I'm taking care of myself."

Ranger didn't say anything for a minute, but just watched me load the box onto the cart.

"That's what you think this is between us?" Ranger asked. "That I use you for a laugh and sex?"

"That's what your employees think," I told him. "I heard them talking about it the other day."

"Do you think I sit around at roll call talking about my feelings for you with my employees?" Ranger asked. "I like having a private life."

"You don't have to talk about your feelings for me, but your attitude and the way you talk about me when I'm not around should make it clear to people how you feel. And apparently that's the impression they get, so whatever you're doing is just giving off the vibe that I'm expendable."

"I'm getting cut out of your life because of a couple of assholes that work for me?"

"No, I'm cutting you out of my life because I'm tired of not being taken seriously. I'm tired of trying to fool myself into thinking you'll change your mind and want to be with me someday. I'm not going to ignore all the things you've done that bother me and try to explain them away."

"Such as?" Ranger asked, and I could see something shifting in him. His normally neutral demeanor was fading, and something like frustration or hurt was bubbling up.

"In the past I asked you not to track me. Many times. And you did it anyway. I eventually just stopped fighting it because I knew you wouldn't stop, but it makes me feel like you don't respect me. Like you're a big, strong man and you know better, so it's okay to ignore my feelings. And that first time we –," I stopped, feeling myself get emotional. I wasn't going to cry in front of him. "The first time we slept together. It was a transaction. You had essentially asked me to prostitute myself to you in exchange for your help. I tried to ignore that, but it's always bothered me deep down. After that you told me there wasn't a price for what we gave each other, but that hasn't been true. I've been paying the price of having you in my life with my dignity and my heart ever since. And I'm not going to do it anymore."

Ranger pushed off from the wall and walked closer to me. "I care about you, and I want you to be safe. You don't always want to accept that the situations you get into are more dangerous than you want to think. That's why I put trackers on your car and in your bag. I'm not going to apologize for wanting you to live."

"So it doesn't matter what I think because you always know better, right?" I asked, throwing my hands up in the air. "Am I supposed to be so fucking grateful that someone like you has any interest in keeping me alive that I just roll over and let you do whatever you want because I'm just some stupid woman who doesn't know any better? I don't think so."

I went over to my messenger bag and pulled out the key fob to his building. I tossed it across the room, and he caught it easily with one hand.

"You have all the trackers that I know of and now you have your key," I said, putting together a new box for the bathroom stuff. "I don't want you to call me or visit me. I don't need your people checking up on me or following me. Don't worry about me if you hear my name on the police scanner. I do appreciate all that you've done for me. You've saved my life, let me stay in your apartment when I didn't feel safe, loaned me cars, and gave me a job when I needed money. I'll never forget that. But I'm taking care of things all by myself now."

I picked up an empty box and went to the bathroom and shut the door behind me. I didn't want to stand out there with him anymore. I didn't want to hear him try to excuse away what had happened between us. I wanted to cry, and if it was going to happen, it wouldn't be in front of him. I loaded towels, hair products, and other things into the box while I thought about my interaction with him. I hadn't been that upset with Morelli. It had been matter of fact and mostly unemotional, at least on my end. Maybe it was because we have broken up multiple times before. I had never tried to push Ranger away like this. Once I had packed up everything and lingered in the bathroom for several minutes, I opened the door and walked back to the bedroom. Ranger was gone.

I loaded up the last two boxes on the cart, quadruple checked every drawer, nook, and cranny of the apartment before I locked up for the last time. Ranger's car wasn't in the parking lot, so he hadn't lingered. Relieved, I loaded the boxes into the car and grabbed the case of beer from the floor. I put it on the cart and wheeled it to Dillion's first floor apartment. I thanked him for being a great manager and headed back out to my car. I sat there for a minute, remembering when I had moved in eight years earlier. I had just gotten divorced from Dickie and didn't have a ton of money. I hadn't been thrilled at the idea of living with a bunch of senior citizens but had told myself it would be fine until I could get back on my feet, never imagining I would be here so long. I pulled out of the lot for the last time and headed towards my parents' house.

I was storing most of my stuff in the garage until I could get moved into my new place. Now that I was all packed up, I needed to focus on furnishing the new apartment. The insurance adjuster had deemed all my furniture ruined as she had walked through the place and informed me that I would get a check for around $3000 in a couple of weeks. It didn't seem like much, but it would help me at least get the basics in place. I could always buy stuff later as I got more money. I knew I could spend some of the money I had in the bank from the Thurston capture, but worried about not having enough to get by. There had been periods of time in the past where I would go weeks, even up to a couple of months, without any high bonds and a measly number of small ones. It had been times like that when Ranger had given me a job to get through. That wasn't an option anymore, so I needed to be frugal.

"This place makes me dizzy," Lula commented as we wove our way through IKEA six days later. "Are you sure we're allowed to leave?"

"Yes, we will get out," I told her. "They have a specific way of setting things up. You look at things first, then pick it up at the end so you don't have to carry through the store with you."

"Huh," Lula observed. "That's not bad, I guess. But how are we going to haul a whole bed and a couch in the back of your car?"

"We aren't. I'm going to have them delivered to the apartment," I said. "I'm seeing what I want, then I'll order it at the end. But the small stuff will fit."

We left IKEA three hours later with my bedroom and living room furniture ordered and ready to be delivered to my new apartment on the second. We loaded my car up with lamps, rugs, dishes, pillows, sheets, and towels and headed back to Trenton. I had signed my lease and put down my deposit earlier that day. I would be allowed to pick up my keys and take residence on the first. I would use that day to move in everything and get it put away before my furniture arrived. The good thing about IKEA was that it was affordable, but the bad part was assembling everything. I had bribed my father with pizza and beer if he would come over with a couple of his buddies to help. He had agreed, so that hopefully meant I would have my furniture assembled in a single day.

We passed a Rangeman patrol car as we headed towards my parents' house. My first thought was that he was having someone check up on me, but they went by without acknowledgement. I felt a small twinge in my heart when I thought about Ranger but told myself I would get over it. I wasn't having those feeling about Morelli and I didn't want to think about why.

I didn't say I was giving up denial completely. I just wasn't going to let it be the norm.

I thanked Lula for the company, even though I hadn't taken any of her suggestions for furniture, and she drove away in her Firebird. She hadn't asked me about Ranger since the day after I had seen him in my apartment. She and Connie had asked if I was really going to do this, and I had started to cry as I told them why. We had all ended up in tears, talking about old boyfriends and heartbreak. Connie had closed the office earlier than usual and we'd gone out to lunch. Neither of them had brought up Morelli or Ranger, and I was grateful. It wasn't easy to cut them out of my life, but it had to be done.

I finished dinner with my family and got ready for my first session with Jill. I had put on yoga pants and a t-shirt and made sure to have plenty of water with me as I headed towards the studio. I was excited to get started. I wanted to feel powerful and in control of my life. I wanted to be able to walk into a situation with an FTA feeling comfortable in my ability to defend myself.

"I don't think I can move my arms," I told Jill at the end of our training session. They were literally trembling from the effort of lifting weights.

"You'll get used to it," she said casually. "Tomorrow will be even worse, but you learn to love the feel of that soreness after a while because it means growth."

Great. Sore, unusable arms was just what I needed when I was chasing down criminals.

She had been asking me questions about my life while I had lifted barbells and dumbbells. I told her about my job, my family, and eventually discussion had turned to Ranger and Morelli. After all, they were part of the reason I was there. It felt like I'd gone to therapy while I lifted weights. She had been understanding of my dilemma and thought I'd made a good choice.

I went into the bail bonds office the next day with a sore upper body, but Jill had been right. There was something enjoyable about it. It felt like hard work, and I knew it would pay off.

"No new skips today," Connie told me when I showed up. "Everyone made it to court."

"That's fine with me," I replied, sitting down next to Lula after grabbing a donut from the box on Connie's desk. "I can't really use my arms today."

I told them about my first training session with Jill and the plans we had for the time we would work together.

"I've thought about getting a trainer," Connie said. "But I don't like to sweat. And the only reason I'd be doing it would be to look hotter, and I'm frankly at the age where if a guy doesn't like what he sees, he can move on. I have an arsenal at home to take care of myself."

"I hear that," Lula said. "They make all kinds of toys to simulate whatever you want. You should probably invest in some since you've cut out all the sex in your life."

She wasn't wrong. But I was currently living in my parents' house where the walls were paper thin and the shower head wasn't removable. Those purchases would have to wait until I was in my own place again, which would be in less than week.

I left the office a while later feeling a little lost. Without any skips to track down, and no Morelli or Ranger in my life anymore, I didn't have anything to do. I had done all the shopping that was possible until I got moved into my new apartment. I didn't really have anyone I wanted to visit. I decided to take a trip to beach by myself. I hadn't been in a while, and it would be a lot more fun to do whatever I wanted on the boardwalk than have to listen to someone complain because I wanted to play mini golf.

I drove down Morelli's street as I headed back to my parents' house. His brother Anthony's truck was parked out front, so I figured either Morelli had the day off or his brother had gotten kicked out of his house again and was crashing there. It was odd to not feel something stronger about my break-up with Morelli. Usually when we had split up, I missed him, but at the same time felt perfectly right to be pissed off at him. But now I just felt indifferent. We had been off-and-on for almost four years. Shouldn't I be more upset by the fact we were over for good, even if I was the one who ended it? I didn't have much time to think about that when I passed another Rangeman vehicle and felt my stomach do a flip. At least I could feel something about Ranger. Even if I wasn't quite sure how to describe it.