I’m cut off by a loud sniffing sound and walk around the side of the couch to investigate it. As he lifts his head, my eyes narrow in on the three white lines of powder on my glass top, and I feel my stomach drop out to the floor.
“What the fuck? What are you doing?”
He wipes underneath his nose and leans back, smiling. “Getting high. You said you wanted to party, remember?”
“Are you crazy? My brother is a cop!” I move quickly, and without thought, come up beside him and brush the powder off the table and onto my carpet.
I just want it gone.
I want him gone.
“Hey!” he yells, grabbing me and throwing me to the ground.
I land on my hip, wincing in pain before looking at him over my shoulder and taking in his desperate state.
He runs his hands over the carpet, trying to salvage any of his precious drug, and looking like a strung-out junkie in the process. His eyes flash with rage as he turns them on me, balling his fists against the floor.
“You stupid bitch! Do you have any idea how much that cost me?” Before I can answer, he reaches for my ankle and pulls me toward him. “You’re gonna fucking pay for that.”
I flail against him, bending the leg he doesn’t have in his grasp and kicking out, connecting with his jaw. “Get off me!” He lets out a loud groan, grabbing my other leg and pinning me to the ground. I squirm as much as I can, screaming at the top of my lungs, but he quickly silences me with one hand to my mouth and another to my throat. My hands claw at his face, his neck, anything to weaken him.
My eyes go wide with panic when he tightens his grip.
“Yeah, I fucking love that. Look how scared you look right now.” He bends down, running his nose against my cheek. “Are you ready to see how rough I like it?”
I close my eyes as I try to pry his fingers from around my neck, but he keeps his hold. And as the tears slip out and my breathing becomes constricted, there’s only one word remaining in my vocabulary. One word that I chant over and over again in my head.
Luke.
“Ruin your own life, Tessa. Do whatever you want. I don’t give a shit, and soon, I won’t even have to watch.”
I turn and walk away, needing to get the hell out of here before I resort to begging. I refuse to let her see my desperation right now. I don’t want this to bother me, I shouldn’t care what she does anymore, but it does, and I do.
I fucking care.
“Where are you going?”
I ignore whatever-the-hell-her-name-is as I pass her, walking straight for my truck. I don’t know why she’s still trying. I barely said two words to her after she sat down next to me, and I was too distracted to act interested in her, or the way she shamelessly brushed against my cock, which didn’t react to her either.
Not even a twitch.
That didn’t surprise me. Unless I’m imagining Tessa’s hands or mouth, it never reacts.
After slamming my door, I start the truck up and sit there, hand on the clutch, ready to shift it into drive, but I don’t move. I can’t. I let out my breath and slump back against the headrest, looking between the cars in front of me at the bodies in the distance.
I shouldn’t even be here. Nobody else seems to give a shit about what she does, so why the fuck do I? Why can’t I turn it off? I don’t want to feel anything anymore, except hate. But even that’s a dangerous emotion when it comes to Tessa. My hate for her consumes me, ripping me apart, like everything else I’ve ever felt for her.
It triggers my obsession. Fueling it.
But I know if I don’t hate her, I’ll leave myself open to feel something else, something I never want to feel again.
It’s fucking pathetic how much effort it takes to hate someone. It doesn’t come without struggle, but allowing yourself to be vulnerable for them? That’s easy, and it’s exactly what I did. I held my arms out and watched as she wedged herself deep inside me, only to claw her way out and take shredded pieces of me with her.
Never again. I’ll hate Tessa until it fucking kills me, but that’s the only thing I’ll allow myself to feel.
Movement through the window of the truck a row ahead of me catches my attention, and I focus on it as the figure moves around the front of the hood and to the car next to it. The one directly in front of me.
My back goes rigid in my seat. “Motherfucker.”
I lean up, watching as the dipshit I should’ve laid out the moment I saw him opens the door of his Camero and gets inside. My eyes immediately dart to the license plate as it becomes illuminated, and I commit it to memory just before he drives away, following closely behind Tessa’s vehicle.
2A8347J
“Gotcha, asshole.”
***
I get to the precinct within fifteen minutes, only bothering to put my truck in park before I run inside, repeating the license plate number over and over again in my head.
2A8347J
2A8347J
I brush past someone, not registering them until I hear their voice behind me.
“Hey, man. What are you doing here?”
I turn my head, briefly connecting with CJ, but continuing in the direction of my desk. “I gotta look something up.” 2A8347J
“Is everything all right?”
2A834… FUCK.
“Stop fucking talking to me!” I yell, halting in front of my desk and running my hands down my face. God, I’m losing it.
“All right, Jesus.”
I close my eyes, picturing the license plate in my head and focusing on all seven numbers. 2A8347J
After I have it, I turn my head to apologize, but see I’m too late when my gaze locks onto the empty entryway.
Nice. You’re an asshole, Evans.
I sit down at my desk, booting up my computer and staring impatiently at the screen as it takes it times to load. I hit a few buttons to try and speed up the process, and when that doesn’t work, I resort to smacking the side of the monitor.
“Come fucking on already.”
The welcome screen appears and I click on the search engine, hovering my mouse over where I know the blank box is going to load. It does, and I type frantically into the license plate field.
2A8347J
I press enter, watching the hourglass turn twice before the screen displays my results. A license appears and I scan the information, narrowing in on the name.
Tyler Tripp
“Motherfucking shit.”
Tessa either gave Ben the wrong name, or this asshole lied to her. Both scenarios are believable right now, and the fact that I didn’t go with my gut and investigate this before tonight has me squeezing my mouse so hard it makes a cracking sound in my hand.
“Shit.”
I loosen my grip, scrolling down the screen, not caring anymore about what this asshole weighs and needing to get to the information I know is there. There’s no way this guy hasn’t at least gotten a speeding ticket. Nobody buys a Camero with the intent to obey the speed limit.
Charges
My heartbeat fills my ears, causing tremors in my vision, as I try and make out the words I’m almost afraid to focus on. I rub my eyes, digging my thumb into one and two fingers into the other, before blinking several times and letting the words slowly form in front of me.
Domestic Disturbance — Charges Dropped
Domestic Violence — Charges Dropped
“Tessa.”