Page 37 of His Good Girl

I had waited less than an hour after sending that one before getting in my car and driving to her place as I threatened. The other day, Marcee and I were talking and she mentioned how worried she was about Lexie. That call destroyed me.

“What’s going on?” I try to sound calm but my heart is about to beat out of my chest.

“I dunno, she just seems broken or something. She smiles and pretends to be good, but I can see she isn’t. Plus, she had really slowed down on the partying and boys this spring not going out or anything. But this weekend after you left, she texted me wanting to go out. She…Dad, I’ve seen her cut loose, but not like that. I was actually scared for her. I got her home safe, holding her hair while she puked and cried. Even after all the shit she went through in school, I have never seen her like that. She always seems so strong, but I think her dad went too far this time.”

“What happened with her dad?” My chest is cramping painfully and I can’t breathe right.

“He left on Friday about the same time as you, but I guess he texted her that it was a mistake to come and he was going home. Why even show up to just pull that shit? He should’ve stayed gone. I just don’t know what to do.”

I feel like I'm going to throw up—this is all my fault. Not only did I ruin things between me and Alexis, but with her dad too. Fuck. “Marcee, you’re doing exactly what you should do by being there for her. Just keep staying by her and she’ll get through it.”

I cut the call short, saying I had an appointment or something before sending the last text to Alexis. She ignored it like the others, so I raced there and was sitting against her door when she came home that night. Even with no makeup and in workout clothes she killed me.

She hadn’t been happy to see me and told me to go, but I forced my way into her place. I might not be able to fix us, but she deserved to know about her dad. I can’t stand the thought of her thinking it was somehow her, or something she did that drove him away. The memory of that night plays through my mind on repeat.

“Lex, I have to tell you something about your dad.” That got her attention. Without speaking, she just swirls her hand at me like come on out with it.

“On the day he was here, he cornered me in the elevator and confronted me about you. I panicked and lashed out and said some pretty awful shit to him.”

“What did you say?” Her voice is so icy I wince.

“He accused me of preying on you. When I denied it, saying you were like a daughter to me…” It’s her turn to wince; she recovers her look of anger quickly, but I see it and feel like an even bigger dick. “Oh, it gets worse,” I groan, dragging my hands over my face. “I then told him he might not recognize how a father looks at their child since he was such a shit dad and is never around.” That seemed to freeze her. I thought she would rant, cry, something, but she just stands there, blinking at me.

“Get out.” Her words are so quiet I almost missed it, but then she looks me straight in the eye as a single tear falls down her cheek. “Get out, Finn.” She turns and walks back to her room without another word or backward glance.

I cried the whole drive home, unable to stop replaying that moment. I send one last text then tell myself to leave her be.

I had done enough.

Me:

I promise to leave you alone after this. I’m sorry for everything Lex, but just be safe and take care of yourself, please.

It was an all-time low in my life. I made sure the lock on the knob was active when I left and tested it to make sure she was safe before heading home.

The pain is still so raw and visceral that I can’t stop thinking about all of it. Switching from texts, I flip through the pictures I have of her on my phone. I hate that there are none of us together, but I'm beyond grateful to have these. I scroll past the sexy ones, knowing exactly the one I want. It’s one of her at the beach. She looks so happy, her eyes are so full of life and light, rubbing my thumb over it like it will somehow help fill the hole in me.

It’s been two months since that night, since I said all the wrong things and hurt her, breaking us irrevocably, and I have thought of her every single day. There was a new picture of her and Marcee on Facebook last week and she didn't look right. She was gorgeous, of course, and she had a smile on her face, but it looked all wrong. It looked forced, her eyes dull and tired.

How many blows has she taken over the years? How many people have let her down? And now, I'm on that list, and it physically hurts. Rubbing my chest over my heart, trying to ease the ache that seems to be there all the time now, I blow out a hard breath.

Dragging my hands through my hair and leaning back in my chair, I stare out the window feeling so lost. I’ve been coming in more often just to get away from the house, but she fills this space too. She's everywhere. My kitchen, my couch, the beach, on my desk. I don’t know how, but she touched nearly every area of my life, leaving a void in her absence.

My phone starts ringing and I groan when I see Vi’s name on the screen, and I seriously contemplate just ignoring it. I guess I waited long enough because the call ends, only to start again. It’s gonna be one of those calls, huh?

“Hi, Vivian, to what do I owe this great pleasure?”

“Don’t use that tone with me, you dick. In case you’ve forgotten, we still share a daughter, so even if we never want to see or speak to one another again, sometimes we will have to converse.”

“You’re right, I had totally forgotten. So glad you called to remind me of our family situation. What would I do without you providing that imperative service for me?” She cusses under her breath. I know I'm being an ass, but her voice is especially grating today and I just don’t care.

“What do you want, Vi?”

“Christmas.”

“What about it? It’s months away.”

“I want Marcee for Christmas.”