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I saved her life. Took her innocence. Now she’s mine.
All fucking mine.
* * *
Magnolia
Alone.I’m all alone for the weekend for the first time since Joss and I moved in together. Joss went to visit her sister in Colorado, and after assuring her I would be fine by myself—a lie I’ve mastered telling—I’m pretty certain it’s not true.
Ever since our landlord installed a fancy new alarm system, I’ve been on edge, waiting for something disastrous to happen. I don’t know why. The security just makes it seem like we’re in danger, and I’ve certainly had enough of that to last me a lifetime. But I can’t help the way I feel. I wish I had more friends. Maybe my family. I wish I knew how to contact Cage.
Ever since our shopping trip a few days ago, he’s all I’ve been able to focus on. For so long, I forced my memories of him from my head. I couldn’t handle the way they made me feel. Then two months ago, I discovered I was pregnant and was bombarded with images of our brief time together. I cried a lot, not because I regretted what came of that one encounter, but because I had secretly hoped he’d come for me.
It’s taken some time to come to terms with raising a baby by myself, and honestly, I have no idea how I’m going to do it, but I will. If only the man would stay out of my head. God, I miss him. We didn’t even spend much time with each other, and what little we did was spent between the sheets with him making my body sing.
My dreams of him are so vivid that they often feel real, and I wake up in a sweat, wishing he were here. I smell him everywhere; at least, I think I do. Especially at night when I’m trying to quiet my mind and go to sleep.
“Cage.” I whisper his name into the dark room as I stare out the window, watching the shadows of the city move. “I wish you were here.” A tear slips from my eye, my emotions too big to handle alone, and I cry harder than I ever have before.
Startling awake by an annoying ringing, I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes to try and clear the sleep from them. The sun has barely risen, and I’m uncertain if I slept or not. I know I cried a ton. The swelling and puffiness of my eyes tell me I did.
Reaching over to my nightstand, I grab my phone without looking at it and answer with a groggy, “Hello?”
“Darling!”It’s my mom.Not someone I particularly wish to speak with when I’m feeling so vulnerable. “It’s been weeks since you’ve called.” The pout in her tone rattles my nerves. “Come open the door, please.”
“What?” I screech, bolting upright in bed. “You’re here?” I need confirmation.
She sighs, and I almost feel her eyes rolling at me. “Yes, that’s why I’m calling and standing outside your door. Come and open it.” She hangs up, expecting me to honor her request. My mother is like a steamroller; if you’re in her way, you’re going down.
Staring down at my little bump, dread fills me because I haven’t told my parents yet. I’m not ready for the scolding and lectures the woman at my door will give me. Add in the fact that I didn’t clean up from dinner last night, and I know I’m in for it once she enters.
Tossing the sheet off, I slip into a pair of shorts and the baggiest shirt I can find that isn’t a sweater because then she’ll know something’s up. Grudgingly, I trudge to the door and open it, forgetting that my hair is likely a mess after going to bed without putting it in the silk wrap I ordinarily use.
“Hi, Mom.” I don’t even attempt to force a smile. I don’t have the energy.
Her lips flatten into a thin line as her eyes soak me in. From the tips of my manicured toes to the unruly mess of red on my head. “Magnolia.” I don’t know why she comes to visit when it sounds like I’ve put her out.
Opening the door wider, I let her enter but nearly choke when I see she has four suitcases with her. “Uh, Mom, what is all this?”
“Give me a hand, would you.” It’s not a question and not an answer, either. Her fingers snap in my face when I don’t move. “Quickly, Mags. They won’t move on their own.” I notice she doesn’t bring in more than the small carry-on roller she has.
Hefting the bags up the steps one at a time, I feel the strain in my stomach muscles and have a feeling I’ll regret this later. “Why so much luggage?” I try asking again as I shut the door. A small group of teenagers across the street staring at my door momentarily distracts me, and I miss what she says.
“Are you even listening to me, Magnolia?” She does that thing I hate where she pokes my forehead to get me to pay attention.
“Stop it,” I snap. It’s too early for this. Joss isn’t here to quell my temper, and I’m starving.
“Excuse me, young lady. Perhaps if you spent more time cleaning up and less time partying, you wouldn’t be such a grump.”Killing my mother is wrong. Killing my mother is wrong. I don’t look good in orange. My baby needs a mother.I keep repeating the words in hopes that they convince me not to commit a crime. I don’t think it’s working.
“I’m not out partying, Mom. I work during the days, and I have the weekend to clean up if I need to. Last night, I was tired and didn’t feel like cleaning. Maybe you should call if you’re coming for a visit.” I grind my teeth and clench my jaw tight so I don’t vocalize the words flying through my head.
She rolls her eyes at me. “No need to throw a hissy fit, Mags. Is your bedroom clean, at least, so I can put my things away?” When Joss and I rented this townhouse, we only got the two bedrooms for a reason. So nobody—meaning my mother—would assume they could stay here.
It seems that plan has failed. “Why would you need to put your things away?”
Turning the kettle on in the kitchen for one of those raspberry teas Joss is so good at making, I nearly faint when my mother answers me. “Your father left, so I’m moving here. With you.”
I feel sick.
