Page 43 of The Woman I’ve Become

He braces his hands on his hips. “You’re not eighteen. You want to get me into trouble? I’m twenty-five. That’s statutory rape.”

This thoroughly pisses me off. “You didn’t seem to be worried about that when we were fucking in your car before daylight.”

He shakes his head. “Coming with me isn’t an option, Julia. What I do—”

“I don’t care what you do.” I shake my head adamantly. “As long as you come home to me when you’re finished . . . that’s all I want.”

“I do dangerous work. Illegal work. You going to be okay with that when we have to run or when the cops drag me to prison?”

“I’ll be right here waiting for you.” Tears threaten as I make this promise. I don’t understand. I thought he wanted me more than anything. I thought we were meant for each other.

“You have to go home. How did you get here?” He goes to a window and parts the blinds for a look outside.

“I hitched and I’m not going back home.” The tears now streaming down my cheeks infuriate me. I want the floor to crack open so I can fall in and hide.

“Give me a minute,” he says as he fastens his jeans, “and I’ll drop you back at your school.” He reaches for a discarded hoodie on the sofa.

I want to scream. I want to cry until my eyes bleed. Why is he doing this?

I lift my chin in defiance. “I need to use the bathroom.”

He jerks his head in that direction. “Make it fast. I have shit to do.”

I want to die. I go into the bathroom and slam the door. It takes a moment for me to pull myself together. With a deep breath, I wet one corner of the hand towel with cold water and try to swipe the mascara that has melted beneath my eyes. I don’t want him to see me like this. Like a disappointed little girl.

When I decide this is as good as it gets, I open the door and step out. As I pass the door to Casey’s room, it opens. Wendy is there . . . wearing nothing but Casey’s unbuttoned shirt. She’s obviously naked beneath it.

“Hey,” she says.

I can’t speak. My heart has stopped. My stomach has dropped to my feet.

“It’s not my fault,” she dares to say. “I just wanted to find out what he was up to. To protect you.” She glances toward the living room. “I was right,” she whispers. “The guy is a total psycho. You need to get away from him.”

“I hate you,” I snarl like a wild animal backed into a corner.

She opens her mouth to say something, but Casey shouts for me to come on.

I stare once more at Wendy . . . my friend . . . the person I trusted with my heart and soul. The look on her face . . . hurt. How dare she look at me that way!

I clutch at the heart necklace she gave me and snap it free of my neck and throw it at her. Then I walk away. I never want to see her again.

I no longer want to die. I want Wendy to die. I hate her.

At Casey’s car I hesitate before getting in. This is so fucking wrong. I glare at him, then turn away. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I call over my shoulder.

“Where the hell are you going, Julia?”

“Go fuck yourself.”

At the moment I would be truly and thoroughly thrilled if they both dropped dead.

They are going to regret this.

Now

19

Westport, Connecticut