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“I need to move out.” I have never lived on my own, and now that Rylie doesn’t live here anymore, I don’t know what keeps me here. Not that I’m not grateful for what Missy has done for me. She gave me a home to feel safe in as well as someone to confide my worries to, but I feel it’s time for me to spread my wings and be on my own for the first time in my life.
Grant hasn’t shown up since I fled home. I think it’s safe to say I’m okay to be on my own now.
Resigned to finding a place, I force myself out of my overly warm and comfortable bed to shower.
While the warm water beats down on me, taking away the aches, I’m finally able to reach a state of relaxation. Last night, I tossed and turned in my sleep, never finding the right spot to be comfortable enough to get into a deeper level of slumber. I slept but don’t feel like I did. My body buzzed with an energy I’m still not completely confident in labeling, and my mind wouldn’t shut down.
And then there’s the pain in my chest. It has intensified to a level that has made it difficult for me to catch my breath throughout the night and even now.
I should go to the doctor.
Rinsing my hair, I’m beginning not to care what Rylie said about this pain. Something is wrong with me, and it’s going beyond whatever she thinks this is.
The house is quiet as I make my way back to my room. In my various stages of tossing and turning, I heard Carter and Missy get back around one this morning, so I do my best to be as silent as I possibly can while I pull on a pair of leggings, a bra,and an oversized sweater with fuzzy socks. It isn’t until I have my wet hair piled on top of my head that I notice the flashing blue light on my phone.
Frowning, I’m not sure who could be texting me this early. It damn well better not be Rylie. She has a new husband to keep occupied.
As my screen comes to life, I see five messages, all from Miles. I’m reluctant to read them. After the encounters yesterday, I don’t want to hear or, in this case, read what he has to say.
A niggling in the back of my mind urges me to rip the Band-Aid off and just read them. I open my messages, and my heart does this strange pull as if it’s trying to leave my chest as I read them.
Can I put anything into this?
Sure, his actions around me suggest he means what he wrote, but him having a date with Thea vetoes them all.
I decide to leave them alone and close out of my messages, grab my purse, and head out. I’m a woman on a mission today. It may be Sunday, but weekend papers should still be at the grocery stores. I kip the coffee already brewing in the pot. The scent of it doesn’t sit right in my stomach as I clear the last step to the main floor.
Typically, I would stop and get some, but I’m not feeling it today. My stomach revolts against the scent, and I can’t get out of the house fast enough. This pain is killing my gut. My stomach still isn’t calm by the time I get to the store and pick up not only the weekend’s paper but a dozen donuts as well. When I walked past them, they called, and it was too tempting to turn down. It isn’t like I’m going to keep them all to myself. I plan to share them with Missy and Carter once I return to the house.
No one is swarming the stores yet, considering it’s still early, so I’m able to get in and out without running into anyone I might know. At least that’s what I feel until I seeher.
As I put my change into my wallet, I look up and find a sight that causes me to flinch and stumble back a step. Thea literally stands inches away from me. Her makeup from last night runs down her face, making it look like she had cried rivers of black instead of actual tears as she looks at me with nearly soulless eyes.
“He picked me.”
My body moves back a couple more steps on its own. The space between us doesn’t last. My safety in distance vanishes as Thea steps closer to me. I’m back into the self-checkout. I’m not going anywhere. The stench of her doesn’t help my continually protesting stomach as it pitches.
“Did you hear me,bitch?” She slings the word as if to slap me. I don’t react. I won’t allow her to see anything from me, and that includes covering my nose and mouth to avoid smelling her and throwing up. “Miles picked me over a scared little bitch like you.”
Her words sting. My skin prickles, and my heart feels as though it’s going to start bleeding out with every beat. This isn’t helping the near-constant pain I’m in.
“So you better back off. Miles is the best damn thing to ever happen to me, and he’sgreatin bed.” The last part seems thrown in there for no other reason than to dig the knife in a little deeper. “Got it?”
Up until now, she hasn’t touched me. She may be in my bubble, but she hasn’t physically touched me. Poking my shoulder with that talon at the end of her finger she calls a nailhas my bristles shooting out and the defenses I’ve acquired over the past few years to flare to life.
As nonaggressively as I can manage, I push her away from me and leave without a word. She isn’t worth my time, and apparently, whatever Miles meant last night means nothing now. He’s a liar. But I don’t allow myself a moment to think through it as I get to my car at the edge of the parking lot, where most people don’t bother to park except for RVs and truckers.
My head falls back against the headrest with a resounding thud as tears begin to fall. When will I catch a break? Don’t I deserve something—
My phone picks that moment to ring.
My hand shakes as I lift it to my face and see Miles’s name.
But why?
He’s already done enough damage.
Boiling rage like I’ve never felt before pumps through me as I accept the call. I don’t allow him to say a damn word as I rip into him.
