“Your worst nightmare.”
“We can agree on that,” I quip. Don’t piss off the crazy guy, Willa, I reprimand myself. Except, instead of retaliating, he laughs.
“Just like your mom. I’ve never met another who can tell someone to fuck off while sounding so sweet and polite doing it. But that’s no longer true, is it? She passed that on to you, it seems.” Is he implying he knows my mom? How? “We worked together; you know? Before she methim.” I guess that would be my dad. “Then the script was refined, giving him the lead, costing me my career, and the rest, as they say, is history. Which is what you’re about to be.”
This is all because he lost out on a role? I have to be misunderstanding him. Then again, the reason doesn’t really matter. Clearly he’s not playing with a full deck, but if I can keep him talking – about himself as seems to enjoy doing so – then he’ll be focused on that and not me carefully removing my phone from my boot.
Once I have it, I keep it as low as possible, then quickly mute it. In movies this is where the suspenseful music would start and the heroine would inevitably lose her only means of help. But this isn’t fiction. It’s real. And my life is on the line.
I text Austin, his information being at the top as he’s the last person I received a message from.
Willa: In trouble.
Austin: Not for long. Jesse is following you.
Instinct propels me to check, so does hope, but I force myself not to. Choosing to mentally ask how he’s there.
Austin: Don’t look. We need to surprise that asshole.
Austin: Trust me. I am coming for you, little one.
I don’t know what gave me away, the sniffle perhaps that Austin’s words caused, the knowledge that even though he’s unsure where we stand, he won’t let that stop him from getting to me. But I’m found out.
A roar leaves the guy in the front, his arm reaching blindly behind him to grope for the phone as his eyes never deviate from the road. Thank goodness as it’s winding, the slightest miscalculation liable to cause him to lose control.
Which could work in my favor. Sitting back in my seat, ramrod straight, I tighten my seatbelt and hold my cell up, letting him see it. Wanting him to.
Willa: I love you, Austin. I forgive you.
“They’re coming for you,” I taunt him. “And guess what, you’ll be up for the role of a lifetime when they catch you. As someone’s prison bitch.”
All it takes is a split second for him to look at me, saliva dripping from his mouth as he snarls, “You fucking…” I see it coming, but he doesn’t, and brace for the impact after shoving my phone in my bra and throwing my arms up to protect my face.
Before I succumb to the darkness pulling me under, I realize that I didn’t hit send on what could be my last message to Austin. What if he never knows I choose him?
———
“Yes, sir. She’s coming to now. We’re just about at the hospital. Yes, sir, I understand.”
“Austin?” I ask when I hear his voice, the sound music to my ears, acting like a band aid to my bruised heart. I don’t know who he was talking to, but he hurriedly tells them bye and leans toward me.
“Hey, little one. You’re going to be okay. The EMTs just recommended you be checked over. You weren’t hurt, but the adrenaline and fear caused you to pass out.” I see the relief in his eyes, in the way he’s shoulders rise as if a weight has been removed from them, but almost immediately the former fades and the latter appears to become even heavier.
“The guy?” I mumble, still a bit woozy.
“Being processed as we speak.” How did I not see it before? Was it just because I didn’t want to? And now that I know, what do I with the information? Where do we go from here?
“I was going to see your boss.” He sucks in a breath. “I wanted to talk to him about you.” Austin says nothing , just waits as if waiting for the final blow. But not for long.
“I know I screwed up, and that you have every right to be pissed at me.”
“You did and I do.” Then I open my mouth to tell him I forgive him, that we belong together regardless of why we met, except the doctor comes in – making me want to steal the worst timing ever award from my dad and give it to him – followed immediately by my parents. Nope, they can share it.
In my haste to reassure my dad and mom that I’m okay, and while listening to the doctor repeat that for good measure, stating I can go home in a few hours, I don’t notice Austin slipping out.
Of my hospital room, and seemingly my life. And truthfully, I can forgive him his secret, knowing he was in a difficult position, but not him breaking his promise to me.
He said he wouldn’t go far, yet no attempt on his part to contact me is made, and even then, it’s still not by him.