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Believe the proclamation despite the lump of dread lingering in my throat.
Mutt stands at the same time he suggests, “How about we all go squeeze our asses into my shower, get some sleep, and have some make up sex afterwards?”
“What about openin’ the shop?” The Kid cautiously questions.
“Already put up a ‘Sorry We’re Closed For The Day’ sign.”
“And your towing services?” I curiously inquire on a suspicious head turn.
“Voicemail service that states, ‘Sorry I’m Temporarily Closed Until Further Notice’.”
“Really?” Kipp struggles not to smile. “We’re gettin’ the whole day together?”
“I think it’s more than fuckin’ needed.” He extends an open palm towards our boyfriend. “Don’t you?”
The Kid bashfully beams and joins hands while I eagerly begin to transition to my feet. However, after tossing the pillow on top of another versus back in its original spot, a tiny scrap of paper catches everyone’s attention.
“What’s that?” Mutt motions his head towards the object I’m grabbing. “Receipt?”
Unsure myself, I quickly turn it over to read the typed words in bold print.
Words that not only have me covering my mouth with both hands but my stomach twisting, demanding I spew everything I’ve ever consumed in my entire life.
Tears immediately sprint to the rims of my eyes as I fervently shake my head in defeat, knowing the undeniable hell that is now in motion.
I KNOW EXACTLY WHERE YOU ARE BUNNY ABERNATHY.
Chapter 23
Nolan
She won’t leave the apartment.
To be fair – other than to piss – she won’t even leave my room.
Breakfast in bed?
Yeah, that shit has the wrong meaning now.
There’s nothing romantic about feeding the person you care about in bed because it’s the only way you can guarantee they do eat.
Not that she’s eating much.
Both my trucks guzzle more fuel in a day than she has been.
And sleep?
Pretty much nonexistent.
And when she does?
She wakes up screaming at the top of her lungs in horror.
I swear it’s like she’s auditioning for a role in a Scream sequel.
All of a sudden, Bunny shoots up straight to release a gut-wrenching cry. “No!” Her frame – that’s still bearing my old sweatshirt – wildly whips around fighting off someone despite the fact no one is physically there. “No! No! No!” Her balled fists violently flail around the air. “Kill me! Just kill me! I don’t want to do this anymore!”
Exactly.
