Your handprint opens the front door and the hall door behind the stairwell. Don’t open the hall door at the moment and don’t leave. I’m trusting you.
In other words, stay right where I left you. If I didn’t feel so tired, I’d have my ass out of that front door, and walk in knee-deep snow to some shady hotel I could afford. Just to spite him.
But I’m tired. All the sleep in the world can’t help the type of tired I am.
You may be tired, Bethany Ann Fawn, you may be sad and in a shit position, but you are still a badass. You are not going to take any shit. And those rules Jase left you, those rules that sexy motherfucker thinks he can lay down while trapping you here, those rules can go fuck themselves.
My little pep talk kicks my lips up into a grin and the lyrics to a Pretty Reckless song play in my mind.
Tell them it’s good. Tell them okay, but don’t do a goddamn thing they say.
It’s been my life’s motto. Nothing’s going to change that.
My first move is to push the curtains in the bedroom as far open as I can. They’re heavy and the sky is full of white fog, not offering much light at all. I think it’s the winter that’s gotten me so down, at least it’s part of the reason. The season can take some of this blame.
With a little more light in his too-dark-even-with-the-light-on bedroom, I go drawer by drawer. I don’t find anything interesting. Socks, neatly folded in a row. Same with his ties. I let my fingers linger over them, feeling the silk and wondering how he could even choose a tie like this, given the patterns are hidden this way.
I finally find a drawer that’s mostly empty; it only houses two pairs of jeans I’m able to put in his undershirt drawer, which is filled with white and black cotton undershirts… and now two pairs of jeans.
All of my things don’t even fill the drawer: two pairs of PJs, a pair of sweats, a pair of jeans and a few tops. It’s everything that was in my clean laundry basket. I have a closet full of clothes, but I wear these garments over and over again. What can I say? I like what I like and I damn well like to be comfortable.
The toiletries are next, but there’s not a space in the medicine cabinet, nor under the sink. I’m able to clear room in the linen closet and shamelessly rearrange what was under the cabinet, putting most of it in the closet and finding a place for my own things there.
A tightness starts in my abdomen and works its way up every time I peek at the medicine cabinet. The pills are still at my house; the ones I stole from Jase. That’s the only spot available to put anything in there, but I don’t bother to touch anything else in that cabinet.
All in all, I waste about an hour. That’s all the time I could fill. Then I’m back to staring at the doorknob, wondering when Jase will be back, wondering if I should leave, if I should go. All the wondering that drives me mad.
The clouds shift behind me, as does the faint light in the room. A band of white light shines across the room until it lands on my purse. It’s only then that I realize my phone is probably dead since I haven’t charged it.
As I’m rummaging for it, I take out The Coverless Book. I have no right to feel betrayed by it, but I do. Jase’s charger on his nightstand works for my phone and once it comes to life, I stare at a blank screen. No missed calls and no missed texts.
I call the Center, keeping the phone plugged in and sitting on the edge of Jase’s side of the bed. I’m given the voicemail before the second ring occurs. They shunted me there intentionally. If they were just going to ignore me, why bother calling yesterday?
I listen to the voicemail message far too long before hanging up. I have no one right now. No one.
The only people waiting for me, are the fictional characters in The Coverless Book.
Jase
I could hardly focus on the update from Carter this morning. Romano’s planning something judging by how he’s moving storage units and Carter thinks he might take off, so we have to strike now if we want a chance at getting him before he leaves. He said Officer Walsh has members of the FBI in town, something about them being involved with Romano’s indictment. They’re all over him and watching his every move, which makes it impossible for us to do a damn thing.
I couldn’t focus on anything he was telling me in his office. All I could think about was how Bethany had wrapped her arms around me in the middle of her sleep. She clung to me without knowing, nestling her head against my chest. I could live a thousand lives in that single moment.