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I walk over to the outlet in the kitchen and hook my phone up to the charger. I see that I now only have a few hours before I have to clock in at Willows, so I decide to hop into the shower to clean myself off for the rest of the day.
So that shower took longer than I thought. I didn’t necessarily want to wash off my memories of Jax’s and mine’s night, and when I realized I was daydreaming, I had to hurry up and jump out when I heard my phone having its own panic attack.
My phone had exploded overnight and into the morning. I’d never had so many notifications all at once. At first, I lowkey loved not having to feel obligated to check in with someone or be available. But the aftermath of a phone gone crazy is not helping my need for a fresh start.
It started with Jae letting me know that Ky was taking her home—which I knew already.
Then she texted me again and told me she was home, just not hers…great.
Then she called me and didn’t leave a voicemail.Typical.
Then my mom called me and did leave a voicemail. Hers came through at around one in the morning and she sounded a bit concerned. There was a mention of cop cars near the Grizzly and then she asked that I called her back.
When I didn’t, she called again…ten minutes later. And then again five minutes later. Until she couldn’t call me enough times between minutes and then, I’m sure my phone died.
When she had to turn to texts, she was typing in all caps.
One message read:
I NEED YOU TO CALL ME SO I KNOW YOU’RE OKAY. YOU’RE SCARING ME HOLLIS. WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING WITH YOU?????
Now, it may be just me…but if someone were in any kind of possible danger to begin with, I’d wonder if they’d actually be able to answer texts or calls at all. And I understand the urgency she wanted, but screaming at someone in a text message doesn’t do much except portray anger, not concern. Especially theWHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING WITH YOU?????part.
And lastly, there’s a text from Jax. It came through about thirty minutes ago when I was still soaking my mind in the shower. Honestly, thinking about him in his.
I don’t know what happened, but I’d really like to see you today. You didn’t have to run off like that. Call me when you have the time.
Don’t know what happened?
What happened was I saw him doing that one thing in the bathroom and I know he caught me. The other thing is that I stayed in his house, in his bed and he made me feel so many fucking things. Which honestly, scares the crap out of me. Maybe even more than not wanting to tell him how fucking crazy my life was after he left.
When I have the time?
Right now, that would be a negative. But not by choice. I have to call my mom back and slide into work like my life is put together. I feel like I’m losing my grip on my badassery and it kind of sucks.
My stomach feels like it’s housing an art farm, tiny feet of walking ants prick at my insides as nerves take over my entire being. The feeling of wanting to call him but knowing I can’t gets the best of me, and I have to take deep breaths to calm down.
Fuck, what is this man doing to me?
I opt to skip both my mom and Jax and go straight to Jae.
She answers on the first rings as I start up my Range Rover.
“Bitch, you better have some fucking tea to spill,” she greets me in a tone that does not at all giveaway that she was in full drunk mode last night.
“Hello to you, too,” I counter, and she just laughs.
“Seriously, what happened after you left the bar?”
“I have to head in to work but I’m off at eight. If you want, we can meet back at my place or yours and we can get to work on those New Year’s vision boards?” I ask her as I place my phone on my phone holder and put her on speaker.
I reverse out of my parking spot and start my way to work. I can hear her sigh an annoying sigh because I purposefully avoided her question, and it’s hit or miss whether she lets it be or not.
“And you’ll bring the teeaaaa?” She lets the last of her word string out for a bit too long and I can’t help but smile.
I know she wants me to tell her about my night, and she knows I will. I don’t keep much from her. But she also knows that it will be therapeutic to me to relay my feelings and talk about it out loud, face to face.
“Your house or mine?” I ask her.
