AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I jerk my hand back.
“What the hell, Whitley? Christ, why’d you do that?” he accuses—yes, accuses, as if it were my fault that he stepped on my fingers at the same time he was stomping on my phone to shatter it in order to hide text messages that he had sent and didn’t want me to see, most of which I had already read and didn’t want to admit to because I was too tired and sick to my stomach to deal with this … this … mess I’d gotten myself in to.
Did it hurt? Yes. Does it still? Yes, but more than the physical pain is that it makes me angry. The kind of angry that burns your throat and the back of your eyes.
Laurie squats down and helps me pick up my belongings. “You okay?”
“I will be,” I seethe, fighting back emotion.
“Oh shit, honey, your phone.” Kal bends down to snatch it up. “I’ll get this fixed and have it back to you tomorrow.”
I don’t even look at him or reply. I dust off the Beanie Boos and toss them into my car, saving them from more abuse, as he says five words that make my hand start to shake.
“You should be more careful.”
“Seward, let’s roll, man. The wife’s gonna be pissed if I’m late again,” someone calls as lights flash a few cars away.
“You okay, honey?” Kal asks, lifting my chin with the hand that’s not holding my phone hostage.
Through my teeth, I answer, “I’m fine.”
He stands. “I’ll stop by tomorrow and drop off your phone.”
Standing, I hold out my hand. “I have insurance on the phone. I’ll take care of it.”
“I’m the one who stepped on it when your bag fell. I’ll take care of you.”
“Let’s go, man!” whoever it is that brought him here yells.
“You have a driver?” Laurie asks, face pinched as she stands with my bag.
“Election year. My father wouldn’t be happy if I got pulled over for driving after having a couple of drinks at the club.” He leans in to kiss the side of my head, and my body stiffens. “Get home safe, honey. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
If Laurie wasn’t standing here, I’d demand my phone and replace his empty hand with the ring he gave me two months ago after a full year of promising me the only thing that would change when we were married was we’d spend every night together and not just once or twice a month when York took Nora.
I watch as his friend drives his Porsche out of the parking lot, wishing I could Carrie Underwood the damn thing.
“Whitley.” Laurie’s says my name, reminding me she’s still here. “You okay?”
I try like hell to pull up a smile, but I can’t. I just freaking can’t. “I need a shower and my bed.”
She grabs my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze, and I wince. “Did you hurt your hand?”
I shake my head. “I’m good. Get home before Lex sends out WPD to find you.”
“Sweetheart, for twenty-five years, that man has fallen asleep in his recliner after the evening news ends. I’m here right now.”
“I’m good, I promise.” I give her a quick hug. “See you tomorrow.”
The convenience of working so close to home and Nora’s school is wonderful, but right now, not so much. I want to either break something or cry. I can’t do either because I don’t have time to get my shit together before walking into the house, and I don’t want Popa B or Gram to see puffy eyes and worry that something is wrong.
What a mess I’ve made. What a freaking mess.
7
Wednesday
Monday, after Whit handed me my ass and I sent Danny the text, I went and did some shopping for food and hygiene products and grabbed takeout before Nan’s closed. I came home and showered, then sat in the middle of the living room floor, looking through a box full of pictures and notes from Mom to me, and me to Mom. There was a notebook that I flipped through. Inside was the drawing of the back porch we’d saved for and eventually built. I grabbed a pencil and started doing some drawings of my own. Took some pictures and sent them to Danny with a text.
