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She sounds furious, but I know that doesn’t mean she’s safe. What the hell is the emergency number out here? It’s 1-1-1 in New Zealand. 0-0-0 in Australia. 9-1-1 in the States. I think it’s 9-9-9 here?
Him: Please, I love you…
There’s the sound of a scuffle, shuffling feet, a squeal from Heidi that makes me leap to my feet, and then a deep male groan.
Him: Ahhh Jesus… Oh God…
Her: Get thefuckout of my house.
Him: Heidi…
Her: GET OUT! Stop calling me. Stop texting me. And stop messaging me on social media. We’re done, and if I see you here again, I’m going to ring the fucking police, do you hear me?
There’s more scuffling, then the bang of a door closing.
I slowly sit again and stare at the screen. It sounds as if she threw him out. Good on her. Do I wait for her to open the laptop and see that I heard everything?
I hear footsteps, then the squeak of the sofa as she sits.
Then, to my horror, she bursts into tears.
Her sobs are deep and heartrending, and my insides twist as I listen to her, one hand over my mouth. At least she’s safe, for now anyway. She wouldn’t let him in if he knocked again, would she?
The sofa squeaks, and then the connection is cut—she’s closed the laptop lid.
I sit back and look up at the darkening sky. Will she call me back when she feels better? I wait for fifteen minutes, but the screen remains blank.
I pick up my phone, dial her mobile number, and put it to my ear. After a few rings, it goes to voicemail. She’s turned off her phone. I end the call without leaving a message.
Maybe she’ll answer if I call in the morning. But she doesn’t want to talk to me right now, and I need to honor that. I’ll talk to her tomorrow, when she’s hopefully feeling better.
I let my gaze drift over the rooftops, up to the night sky, fighting with my natural instinct to take action. I think of her deep sobs, and Huxley’s concern for her. She has family here, and plenty of friends, I’m sure. She doesn’t need me riding in on a charger to rescue her. It sounds as if she can handle herself just fine. She doesn’t need me.
If you were a fraction of the man that he is, we might still be together.
Pursing my lips, I pull up Google calendar and see what I have planned for the next few days.
Chapter Three
Heidi
I awake with a start. It’s dark, and I’m in the living room, on the sofa. I look at my watch; it’s 1:03 a.m.
I groan. After Jason’s surprise arrival and our subsequent argument, I cried for thirty minutes non-stop. After that, I was so exhausted from all the emotion that I must have crashed out.
My laptop sits on the coffee table, next to my phone. Ah, Jeez, Titus. I told him I’d call him back. I was so upset, and worried that Jason would try to call or message me, that I turned off my phone, too.
I pick it up, hesitate, then turn it on. My stomach flips with worry as I wait for any messages to download. Tomorrow I’m going to block Jason’s number, and I’ll also unfriend him on Facebook and block him on all my social media channels. I’m done trying to be nice.
He’s sent me two texts, but I ignore them. Instead, I pull up the one that’s waiting from Titus.
Hey, hope all is well. Let me know when you’re up in the morning and maybe we can chat. T.
I rest my forehead on a hand, cursing myself. I should have cut Jason out of my life as soon as we broke up, and then I wouldn’t be in this position. What must Titus be thinking? I know that Oliver must have told him what’s been happening in my love life. I’m sure the last thing he wants is to spend time with someone recovering from a bad breakup. It wouldn’t surprise me if he withdrew his offer to go with him for the weekend. Dammit.
I decide to send a reply to his text. I’m going to be totally honest. There’s no point in trying to squirm my way out of it.
Hey, I know you’re probably asleep now. Just wanted to say sorry for not getting back to you. Can we chat tomorrow? I’ll understand if you’ve changed your mind, though. H x
