“No, don’t fucking call him. The shit is mine.”
Drugs, probably.
The arguing continues for a few minutes, until Sketchy Guy releases a heavy sigh.
“Fucking hell, fine. I’m on my way.”
On that note, he hangs up the phone.
The monster looks down at me, his jaw tight as he spits, “You’ll see me again.”
He lets go of my throat and leaves.
I barely hear my sobs through my excessive coughing, but I do hear the sound of his car outside. The roar of the engine dies down shortly after.
The next few minutes are a blur. I feel like a ghost watching myself from the outside as I run to the library to pick up my clothes from the floor. I’m sobbing the entire time I pack my belongings.
I notice all of Lexie’s things were left by the dumpster down the street as I’m getting into my car. So, Finn didn’t have time to leave me a note, but he found the time to go through his entire house to throw out Lexie’s toys at the butt crack of dawn?
I make sure to block his number before pushing the gear into drive, my brother’s countless warnings about Finn playing on a loop in my head.
And I didn’t listen before…
But I’m listening now.
* * *
Finn
Don’t call her, don’t call her, don’t call her.
Don’t fucking call her.
I fidget with my phone for long seconds, the urge to select her contact info tearing at the stitches of my ego. I’ve never been one to blow up a girl’s phone, begging for a minute of her time, and I sure as shit am not about to start now.
Eh, who am I kidding?
I’ve been staring at her phone number like a delusional little bitch for two days. I keep waiting for her to give me a sign of life, but she’s gone radio silent since the day I skipped out on her while she was asleep.
She must think I’m an asshole.
That I chose to leave her.
She was still naked in my arms when I got the call. Sheriff Daniels was on the other end, insisting that I show up to the police station to discuss a promising lead on the bastard who murdered Lexie.
I was dumb enough to think I’d be back before Dia woke up. Worst-case scenario, I’d shoot her a text and clear things up, but I hadn’t charged my phone, and the stupid thing died on me as soon as I got to the station. The interrogation lasted fucking forever, and by the time I came home, she was gone.
She’d packed her things and left.
To be fair, I left first. Why can’t I just texther? Get over myself long enough to apologize?
Short answer?
My pride is a pain in the ass.
It won’t stop calling me weak for wanting something that might not want me back. After all, she said we should go our separate ways after we fucked, but does she seriously think she can just walk out of my life?
After I buried myself inside her on the library floor?