Page 22 of I'm Sorry


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Somehow I have a feeling tonight won’t go exactly how this usually does and I have my father to thank for that. He may have disowned me, but he will never stop reminding me how much power his money brings him.

CHAPTERTHIRTEEN

LENNOX

“Nox,your phone is ringing. Will you please answer it?” Lauren whines from somewhere in my darkened room. Since I came home from the hospital a few weeks ago, she and Junie have been taking turns staying with me on nights when Benny isn’t able to. He has some classes that run well into the evening, then work so he doesn’t come over. He’s hell bent on not waking me in the middle of the night like he usually does, so I can get my rest and heal. I love him for it, but I also hate him because I need him always.

He takes the nightmares away. Or at least he helps with them.

“Hello?” I rasp at the unknown number. After accepting that the call is from an inmate in the county jail, I sit and wait, my heart in my throat.

“Shit,” the deepest voice I’ve ever known mumbles hastily on the other end of the connection.Trace?Immediately, my heart rate jumps to epic proportions. It’s nearly dawn. Were he and Benny out together? Did something happen?

“Trace?” Sitting up and ignoring the pain in my ribs, I swing my legs over the side of my bed.

“Uh…shit. Shit, I’m sorry,” he rumbles. “I didn’t mean to call you. I’m not sure why I did. Your number just—”

“You know my phone number?”One minute,I hear in the background. “Wait, what the hell are you doing in jail?” He sighs and mutters something under his breath that I can’t make out.

“Fuuuuccckkkkk.” That, however, is more of a roar that has adrenaline spiking in my system and my nerves amping up. I imagine his head dropping back on his lean shoulders, pieces of sun kissed hair falling from his man bun that is usually so tidy. But he sounds exhausted, so my vision of him shows me sloppy Trace hair. Maybe I just want him to not look so damn perfect all the time.

I bounce my leg on the carpet, needing movement. Since the attack, my normal calm resolve has shattered and I’m an edgy mess. “Trace, are you okay? Is Benny okay?”

“What? Yes, Benny is fine. He wasn’t with me.” I breathe a sigh of relief and relax. A timer beeps through the connection.

“I didn’t mean to call you. It was supposed to be Benny,” he rushes out. “Can you call him for me? Let him know I’m in jail.”

“Jai—” The line cuts off and the static that was there goes silent. I pull my phone from my ear and stare at it. The fuck?

DecidingI’ve had enough rest, I slip out of my room after throwing on some workout gear. With my credit card in hand and a stack of cash I know my dad keeps in the house, because I’ve never bailed anyone out of jail before and I want to be prepared, I make my way down to the county jail. I stop for some coffee and something to eat, grabbing something for Trace as well. Something greasy and yummy because the kid is in jail and could probably use some comfort food.

Clearly, I’m losing my mind. This kid doesn’t deserve me to rescue him.

I thought about calling Benny, which was probably the better option, but he is always the one saving everyone and worked all night after class. He needs his sleep and doesn’t need this stress. I’ll probably get into a little trouble with my family for going out, but I need a damn break from everyone suffocating me after the attack. I know they’re just trying to help, but also, what is going to happen to me at a jail in the middle of the night? There are deputies everywhere. Still, I have a cap on and sunglasses whenever I’m outside. I’m not that sure of my surroundings that I wouldn’t try to hide myself.

The woman at the front desk informs me that there will probably be a long wait, that I should get comfortable. But after about fifteen minutes, the gate clicks and something buzzes. My name is uttered so quietly, I wouldn’t have heard it if the early morning hadn’t been upon us. Everyone who is in the waiting room is extremely quiet, opting for more sleep rather than busying themselves on their phones.

Trace freezes when I look up, his eyes locked on mine, pain and anguish dulling the cerulean blue. He’s abnormally pale, with dark swells beneath his eyes. He’s taken the time to let his hair down, but it’s clearly been up for a while because it curls into the shape of his usual bun as it hangs to his shoulders. My bravado falters.

When I came in here, I was ready to tell him just exactly how I felt about him and this situation that he’s in, how it is going to affect everyone around him, but it’s clear he’s had just about as much as he can take. He looks about as defeated as my body feels. I’ve seen him look torn before, because he wears his heart on his sleeve, but it’s never been this bad.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as quietly as he can while still packing that usual gruff into his tone. “I asked you to call Benny.”

“Benny worked all night after spending hours in class.” I don’t hide the reprimand in my tone. If he’s going to be a jerk after I’ve just bailed him out, then I’m going to give it right back to him. “He didn’t need to be here to bail your ass out of jail. Drinking in a public park? Driving while intoxicated?”

“I was inparkin the parking lot. My car was off and I was asleep. I needed…” he pauses, clamping his jaw shut. “I don’t need to explain myself to you because I didn’t ask you to come. I asked for Benny,” he snaps and pulls ahead of me as we exit the building, me still with two cups of coffee in my hands.

“But you calledme,” I reiterate between clenched teeth. This kid… so damn rude all the time. I do not know why the hell I tried to be nice and come pick him up. I did it for Benny. Because Benny is too nice and would run himself ragged for this asshole. I still don’t see why they are such good friends. That’s not true. Benny is just such a bleeding heart that he can’t help it, even though Trace is the rich kid who has needed for nothing his entire life.

Ugh, even that isn’t true. His home life is terrible, even worse now. I’m just being a jerk, which isn’t like me. There is just something about him that brings out the absolute worst in me, and after everything I’ve been through and put up with lately, I don’t have the patience.

“I said I didn’t mean to. I must have seen your number on my phone or something and it was the first one that popped into my mind. I’m sorry I woke you, but you really should’ve called Benny.”

“Why were you in the park drinking? You could’ve had that drink at Benny’s place.”

Trace draws up short before my car, his shoulders sagging and his head dropping as if he’s been trying to push those thoughts away and my question is the worst reminder. He circles his neck with his large hand, long fingers curling around the lean muscles there. Maybe that’s why I always win. The lighter, the better. While Trace is far from bulky, he’s still a tall guy, taller than me and heavier. No matter how fit he keeps himself, he can’t stop his natural build.

Why am I looking at his natural build? I hate this kid. I roll my eyes to myself and force my mind back to the situation.

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