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“Thanks for helping get the police round,” I say to Hunter.
“You’re welcome. I still want you to come in and see me next week, okay?”
“I will do. I’ll text you the day before.”
“Sounds good. Bye, Indigo. Try not to worry too much.”
“Thanks. Bye.”
As I hang up, Rami gestures towards the chamomile tea she placed beside me at the start of my call to settle my nerves.
I watch her over the brim of the cup as I take a sip, my hand still quivering a little.
“Fuck, I feel like I’ve wasted your day,” I sigh in frustration as I place the cup back down onto the scratched wood of the floor.
“Never a waste when I’m with you, babe,” says Rami warmly, though I sense the concern concealed in her cadence.
“Yeah, but I shouldn’t have subjected you to all this crap again.”
“Shut the fuck up,” she replies, flashing me a smile. “I'm a freaking marine who can’t marine anymore. I come alive under chaos. I’m wasted on civilian life.”
Her eyes brighten as I smile in appreciation for her attempt to lift the atmosphere out of the shadows.
“I don’t wanna tell Fran for now. I don’t wanna make her worry again unless it’s really something.”
“Not a word,” she replies.
“It’s so weird the timing of that message. It’s like they knew exactly when I was dropped off. You don’t think…?”
“They were watching you?”
I shudder as goosebumps trail across my skin.
“Either that,” Rami continues, “or the message was just a coincidence?”
I lean my back against the frame of the bed, fidgeting with the hem of my woolly cardigan. “Do you really think it’s Micah?” I ask.
“Yeah. I know that fucker too well. He’ll be jerking off to this from the jail cell.”
“How do I make him stop?”
“I told you what we need to do, Indie. Go round to his family’s house and tell them what he’s up to.”
“As if they give a shit. They hate me.”
“They’ll hate you more if you go public with your abuse claims. We go round there, show them the pictures, and tell them that if it happens one more fucking time, you and three other women are gonna out their precious son for the abusive piece of shit he is.”
“I don’t know, Rami.”
“Well, I do. I’ve dealt with these types way more than you. Grew up with them. Playing nice doesn’t cut it, Indie. Not anymore. We’re gonna face this head-on.”
“And if it’s not him?” I say, making her tanned face suddenly look pale.
I don’t know why I even asked the question. It has to be Micah. I mean, who else?
Lately, I haven’t been able to shake off this feeling that I’m being watched, and that has to be because of my experiences with him...
Rami inhales deeply, studying my distress most intently. “Let’s just hope that it is.”
