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"Yeah, I just . . . I realized I haven’t looked for a fix yet.”
I can feel his lips curling up into a smile against my neck, “Good. I hope you won’t.”
His words should make me feel better, but they terrify me.
“This is freaky as fuck, Razor. I haven’t stopped using in . . . months, and I know I’m going to crave it soon.”
"I know it can be scary," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of my neck. "But I promise I'll be here for you every step of the way. You’re not going to be in this alone, okay?”
"Okay,” I murmur, truly touched by his sincerity.
The truth is, he doesn’t have to be doing any of this for me, and yet he is.
“I have to go take a piss, I’ll be back, but feel free to clear a drawer out and put your clothes wherever you want.” Razor comments as he heads for the bathroom.
I nod, dig into my pocket and pull out my phone.
Sighing, I know as much as I want to avoid my father, I can’t do it forever.
Powering the phone on, my heart pounds in my chest.
The second it powers on, my phone buzzes over and over again.
There are a total of twenty voicemails from my father, and almost forty text messages.
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath.
Razor comes out of the bathroom, concern etching his face. “Everything okay?”
Shit, I must not be hiding my emotions very well right now.
"Um, yeah," I lie straight through my teeth. "Just . . . my dad. He's blowing up my phone.”
Razor nods, “Probably best to talk to him before he gets one of the boys to track your cell.”
I stare at Razor blankly, not even considering that as a possibility. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I muster up every bit of courage I have and type a text message to him.
To: Dad
Hey, I’m safe. Just need a vacation. Love you. Talk soon.
I click the send button before I can convince myself to avoid him even longer.
Almost immediately, I get a call from him.
God . . . he must be freaking out.
Razor licks his lips and looks at me. “You might as well answer it now. He’s just gonna keep callin’.”
He makes a valid point.
I click the accept button and bring the phone to my ear. “Hey, Dad.”
His heavy breathing is the first thing I hear, “Oakleigh, where the fuck are you?” His voice is heavy with concern as each word comes out. “You’ve been gone for days, and all you left me was a damn note. What in the fuck is goin’ on?! Huh?”
I understand his anger to a point, but he doesn’t need to be speaking to me like this.
