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Shit! She couldn’t afford to replace it.
She groaned and sat on the edge of the bed, dropping her head in her hands. What the hell was she going to do without her phone?
She lifted her head again and glanced over at the couch. Did he take it?
Why? Why would he do that?
She was going to have to wake him up and demand her phone back.
Jesus. She didn’t want to wake him. She wanted to get the fuck out of there before he was upright and aware.
The way he looked at her…
It twisted up something inside her.
And not in a bad way.
Not in a good way, either.
His dark brown hair, his deep dark brown eyes. The intensity of his stare.
That fucking body.
She swallowed the saliva beginning to pool in her mouth.
She needed to get the hell out of that apartment.
She did not need trouble like him in her life. She tended to step in plenty of shit all on her own.
If she had to, she’d wait until later, once the bar opened, to come back and demand her phone. Because he had to have it. She had tucked it into the side pocket of her backpack after she’d stripped down last night and before climbing into the shower. The shower she stayed in until the water went cold.
It had felt so damn good. While the tiny bathroom wasn’t super clean, it was way cleaner than the truck stops they tended to stop at. But that steaming hot water also drained any remaining energy from her.
That was probably why she ended up in his bed.
She didn’t even remember climbing into it. She must have turned into some brainless zombie between her full stomach, the hot shower and all the energy they’d put into playing their best to impress, combined with the late hour.
She sighed softly and combed her fingers through her hair. She didn’t have a hairdryer and didn’t want to dig through his personal belongings to see if he had one, so it ended up drying curlier than normal. Especially after sleeping with it damp.
She pulled socks from her backpack, hoping they were a clean pair, yanked them over her feet, then pulled on her winter pull-on booties she’d bought second-hand and her zippered sweatshirt.
She actually bought that at a consignment shop, too. As soon as she saw the cat ears as part of the hood, she had to have it, even though it wasn’t warm enough for the winter months when they were up north.
She’d have to make a run for the bus—hopefully still parked at the church—so she didn’t freeze her ass off before getting there. It was time to turn the bus around and head south where they wouldn’t end up with frostbite since the heating system in the bus was hit or miss. Mostly miss.
When she turned to grab her backpack, she spotted it. Her damn phone plugged into a charger on the nightstand. She almost collapsed in relief.
While she didn’t have her brother’s number any more, she still had hope that somehow, some way, one day he’d find her number and call her.
They had lost track of each other years ago. The last time she talked to him was when she was ten. Thirteen damn years ago. During a time in his life when he’d been in and out of jail and even prison.
She had to assume he’d been arrested again after the last time they spoke. Maybe he was even still locked up. Since, back then, he seemed to be barreling down a rocky path of disaster.
But she always hoped he’d straighten out. That was why the last time they spoke, she begged him to come get her. Even cried to the point she could no longer talk.
He had saved her once.
She had hoped he’d save her again.
He said he’d try.
But, instead, he disappeared.
After that, she disappeared, too. She blocked out who she was, where she was and pretended she was someone else, somewhere else.
Anywhere but where she was.
Until it came to the point she could no longer ignore it all. Because it was no longer just her.
She shook her head violently, trying to shake free those clawing, painful thoughts, then ground the heels of her palms into her eye sockets trying to wipe away the visions she couldn’t escape.
She couldn’t.
She couldn’t go back.
But she had to.
Fuck.
The heat of her anger surged from her gut into her throat, burning every inch of the way as it rose.
She let her eyes once again land on the man still passed out asleep on the couch. Still snoring. He was vulnerable right now with the way he slept. His body relaxed, having no idea that she stood just feet away, staring at him.
He hadn’t touched her.
He hadn’t forced her to put out in exchange for a hot shower or food. He hadn’t even asked or suggested it, either.
