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I hang up, looking down at my screen as it goes to a picture of him and me. It was the day we were with Angie, having a blast. It was the day I knew I loved Jace Sinclair and that he was the last guy I’d ever love. It’s such a special picture, something I’ll treasure for the rest of my life.
It’s a picture of my forever.
I don’t come out of my room the rest of the weekend. Not even for the game, which was originally why I was in town. Mom did come to check on me, begging me to come out, but I stood my ground and she didn’t fight me on it. Especially when I looked in the mirror and saw the bruises around my nose. My family did nothing, and that just blows my mind. I mean, yeah, I went at him. But why did I have to? Why didn’t they tell him to shut up? Blah, whatever, I don’t care. I’m leaving in a matter of hours, and I’m never coming back. And the supershitty thing is, I don’t think they care.
But Jace does.
He wants me home.
Jace: So nine hours left until you’re home.
Me: Counting down the seconds.
Jace: Me too. Be safe. Call me when you land.
Me: I will.
After covering my face with more makeup than usual because of the bruises, I pick up my bag and head downstairs, wanting some lunch before I head downtown for my appointment. I already said good-bye to my mom this morning since she had a luncheon to go to for the hockey club she still supports, despite not having a son playing. While it burns that she doesn’t want to drive me to my appointment or to the airport, I know I need to let it go. I’ve decided this imitation of a family isn’t good for me, and I have to stand behind that. I have to be strong, no matter how much the small, feeble girl inside me wants to grasp at my family, begging them to love me.
As I head downstairs, the house is quiet and I don’t expect to see anyone else. My dad left last night for Toronto, Seth yesterday morning for wherever his next game is, and while Laurence and Matty are still here, I assume they don’t care to say good-bye to me, which is fine by me. Kind of. Whatever.
Dropping my bag at the bottom of the stairs, I head into the kitchen to get some leftovers Julian said he’d have for me. The kitchen is empty and I wonder where he is. He said he’d see me off, but I don’t see him and that makes me sad. While I may not think we need him, I love him. He’s always been really nice to me. Shrugging, I head to the fridge, getting out the plate that has my name on it before putting it in the microwave. Leaning against the counter, I wait as I play on my phone, stalking Baylor’s and Claire’s Facebook pages. They asked me to be friends this past weekend, which was surprising since I thought Jace would tell them we broke up. I’m assuming he didn’t because we are friends now, and it’s cool. I love looking back and watching Jace grow through their pictures. He’s so hot.
When I hear a text sound, I look around confused, since my phone didn’t go off. Looking to the island in the middle of the kitchen, I see a phone, blinking with a text. When it goes off four more times in a row, my brows mush together. Whose phone is that? I don’t want to be nosy, but when it goes off four more times, I take a step toward it, leaning my forearms on the counter until it’s in my view. I know I’m wrong with this, but it could be an emergency.
Graham: Dude, really?
Graham: What did I do? I thought we were going somewhere.
Graham: I mean, I’ve been falling for you and I thought you were too.
Graham: Let’s discuss this. I don’t want to break up.
Graham: I love you, Matty.
My eyes widen and my heart jumps into my throat.
Holy fuck.
It lights up again with another text and my eyes get even bigger.
Graham: We can tell them together. My parents understand, they love you like I do. Let’s tell your parents. Don’t end this. This is good. We are happy.
“Oh my Go—” Before I can even finish my sentence, I’m being pushed into the fridge and Matty’s hand is at my throat. My hands come to his wrists, crying out. “Let me go,” I struggle to say.
“What the hell are you doing?”
I slap at his arms but he doesn’t budge, and panic settles in my chest because I can’t breathe. He doesn’t look like he is going to let me go either. His eyes are wild, bloodshot, and his breathing is erratic, almost like he’s been crying. That can’t be right. Matty has no feelings. But one thing is for sure, I have to get out of his grip. I bring my knee up and he folds over, holding his groin as I get away, going around the island and out of his reach.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” I yell at him, and he leans on the island, glaring at me.
“What did you see? Fucking tell me, you bitch!”
“Oh, nothing much,” I say, my eyes locked in his intense and angry gaze. “Only that you’re gay,” I throw back at him and his eyes bug out.
“Shut your whore mouth!”
“Oh, why? You scared someone will hear me? I can’t believe that, instead of telling our parents, you’d rather break up with your boyfriend.”
