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Heather
“Hey, Google. Call ‘Carrie.’” I demand, and my phone in my lap buzzes briefly before replying in a mechanical voice.
“Hello? Aren’t you up a little late for a school night?” Carrie asks, her voice bright and happy.
I ball up the used pad. Tossing it into the cup holder, I tap the ‘speaker’ button on my phone. “Oh, Mike’s back tonight, right?”
“He broke up with me,” Carrie squeaks in surprise to my flat response. Sighing and rubbing my brown eyes with my fists, I lean back in my seat with a thud. “He wasn’t even gonna tell me if I hadn’t shown up. He was just gonna ghost me! That lying, cheating jerk said he fell in love with someone else while in Spain for only two months!”
“Wow, no way!” Carrie exclaims, and I nod to myself with a grimace. “What happened?”
“I just— I wanted to punch him so badly, but I just turned and walked away,” I answer, clenching my hands into tight fists in my lap. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and let out a bleak groan. “Carrie!”
“I don’t blame you. That’s a dick move. What a jerk!” says Carrie, anger and revolt visible in her voice.
“But you know, not to be harsh about it, you two weren’t exactly in the throes of passion, Heather,” Carrie points out, and I pull my seatbelt over me with clammy palms.She never fails to see both sides of things, I am so grateful for her at times like this.
She’s got a point.I glance at my reflection in the vizor before pushing it up and turning over my car.
“Mike was a safe option. I’m not saying you two didn’t care about each other, and Mike trying to screw you over is wrong, but... are you being honest with yourself about why it sucks?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, twisting to back out of my space and weave my way down through the parking structure. “I liked him well enough, Carrie. And maybe we did lack a little in the passion department, but that was fine with me.”
“It obviously wasn’t fine with him, though,” Carrie’s remark hits me in the chest, and a grim scowl forms on my face. “You’re not even heartbroken about it. I can hear it in your voice. Yeah, you’re mad and feel betrayed, but you’re not sad.”
“I’ll get sad eventually,” I whisper, and Carrie snorts in disbelief. My mouth dries as I shake my head, taking a wide turn to the ground floor. “Anyway, you’re not helpful, so I’m gonna hang up now.”
“Wait!” she shouts, and I clench my jaw as my attention splits between her and the signs directing me out of the concrete maze. “Just eat some ice cream and watch Schindler’s List or something. You’ll be okay, Heather.”
Cracking a smirk at Carrie’s soft tone, I inhale as much air as I can through my nose as affection worms through my veins. “Thanks, Carrie. I’ll call you tomorrow?”
“Sure! I have some meetings about this piece I’m writing, but I should be able to answer your call.” We say our goodbyes and hang up, and I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, straightening my arms out.
Carrie is right. Before I know it, I'll be over Mike. All I need is some ice cream and heartreaking movies.
I hit the back door of my car with my hip while hoisting my paper bag full of snacks that I ran to get my myself right after the call with Carrie. Her advice was more helpful than expected; even going shopping for junk food I don't usually eat was exhilarating. It took my mind off my heartbreak for a while.
“I need to find a gut-wrenching movie to watch,” I say to myself as I take the steps towards my house. “Maybe Marley and Me. That’s always a tear-jerker. Hell, I might even go hard and order some Chinese takeout. There is nothing better than grease to ease the pain.”
I stop at the entrance and poise my key, only to pause. The door is ajar, and irritation courses through my veins. Damn, Liam, leaving the fucking door open now! What a lazy bum! I grimace and grab the curved brass handle, pushing open the barrier and kicking it closed behind me. When I look over, the television is on, but Liam is nowhere to be found. I walk over to the sofa and grab the remote to lower the volume.
My attention is drawn to the reality drag racing show that Liam watches religiously. As I stare at the television, I am filled with dread. He refused to get up during the show, even during commercials.
And the door was open...
As I slowly exit the living room, alarm bells go off in my head. I take my phone from my purse and turn to leave, only to be stopped by a strange man who is blocking the front door. Goosebumps cover my arms and chest, tensing them. My mind wanders, the blood draining from my face as critical, moss green eyes scrutinize me. His chiseled jaw moves slowly, framing a tanned, long face etched with seriousness.
“Don’t... even think about it,” The man growls, and my heart leaps into my throat. “Put the phone down.”
My palms grow cold and sweaty as I slowly bend down, not taking my gaze away from the man, to place my phone on the floor. I clench my jaw as the silence drums in my ears. This man is no ordinary burglar. Without a doubt. Otherwise, why is he still here, and why has nothing been touched?
“You know who I am?” He asks, and I shake my head mutely. His grave face morphs curiously as he arches a brow. Through his trimmed stubble, his slight smirk is extremely apparent. This man... isn’t trying to hide anything. “You’re not going to try to run?”
“You’d catch me,” I answer, my voice unstable, and I grimace at the satisfied glint in the man’s eyes. “Would it make you feel better if I did?”
“What a strange question. If anything, I should be asking you that, Heather,” He says, and I suck in a sharp breath. Although, part of me knows I shouldn’t be surprised. The way he’s just in my house, he must know more about me than I do about him. “Would it make you feel better if you tried to run? Making an effort to escape? Maybe you could do it….”
“You know my name, probably where I work and the places I hang out,” I reply pointedly. The sensation of surrealism washes over me; I’m having such a civil conversation with someone who broke into my house? For real? I shake my head. “What do you want? Why’re you here?”
