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When she first called, fuck, I think I stopped breathing. It was two in the morning, and panic hit me. When I answered it, all I heard was her sobs, and it broke me. I pleaded with her to talk to me, I told her how much I fucking loved her, but all she did was cry harder, and I never felt so fucking helpless.
I stayed on the phone until her sobs stopped, and she fell asleep to my voice. I continued to stay on the phone until I fell asleep, and woke to a dead cellphone.
I keep my eyes on the picture of my girl on my mantel. I'm off work today and tomorrow, and I hate it. When I'm working, I'm busy; my mind is busy. When I'm at home, all I see is her. This whole house was built with her in mind, and she didn't even know it.
My phone rings, making me blink, and I sigh, knowing it's most likely Prue. The woman isrelentless,wanting me in bed, but there's only one girl my head, heart, and fucking cock want, and she's God knows where. Tech stated he knows where she is, but I've already pushed her away andneed her to come to me on her terms.
Showing up at her new place and dragging her back will further push her away, especially with Prue on the scene.
Fuck, we need to find that evidence!
Shaking my head, I lean forward and grab my cracked phone, expecting to see it's the bitch, only for my heart the leap.
The caller ID reads: My Pixie
Fuck yes. Several times a week, she'll call. She won't say anything, but I know it's her, even with a new number. I tried to Facetime her, but she never accepted, which means this is what I have to be happy with, hoping my words and stories will bring her back home to me.
"Hey, Pixie," I rasp, and of course, she doesn't speak. I hear her sniffle, and I fucking hate it. I sigh, sitting back, "I take it you've had a bad day, baby?" I look at the photo on the coffee table of her sitting cross-legged, her head back as she smiles at the sky. "You know, a part of me believes you've taken the job for that program in New York, and if you have…fuck am I proud of you."
She sniffles again, confirming my suspicions. For months I've had to play the perfect old man to the bitch, and for months, my sister has barely said two words to me, just like she promised she wouldn’t when I begged her to tell me where my Pixie had gone. All while I live for these calls.
I know I could tell Lola about this, about my girl calling me several times a week, but right now, I need this just between us. If I know Lola, she'll try to get in touch with Ken and ensure Ken never contacts me again. I won't have that. After that, Lola'll out me to the club out of spite for taking her best friend from her.
I smile a little. "You have a heart of gold, Kennedy. Working with preemies and babies that have lifelong illnesses, you knew you would find it hard, but this was the dream, Pixie. You're the strongest person I know, and the best person for the job, even if I feel like I'm dying without you."
I sigh when I hear a rustle. If past calls have proved anything, she's about to hang up, and I hurry to admit, "The house I built on club land…it's your home, Kennedy. I knew this was your dream home, and I built it for you. I love you, baby."
With that, she hangs up and, well, hello, anger. How are you?
I throw my phone, hitting my flat-screen TV, smashing both, before I rest my head in my hands and breathe hard.
I wait a few minutes, trying not to destroy my living area again, then I sit forward and pull the box from underneath the coffee table. The box contains over two hundred letters written for my Pixie.
I grab a piece of paper and a pen, and write to her again, wishing she was in my arms.
My Dearest Pixie,
I broke the TV again. You called, and you were crying. I can't fucking stand it when you cry, baby; it guts me. My instincts are to grab a hold of you and not let you go, but you're living your life, living your dream. I know you didn't confirm it, but it's obvious.
Claudia misses you. She didn't confirm that you're in New York, but she did say you were the best nurse in the hospital, and ready for greatness, and she's right.
I want to fly out and plead, no, beg, for you to understand my reasons for what I'm doing, but I also know you need this, even if I do miss you.
Pixie, things aren't the same without you; I feel like I've lost half of myself.
I need you, Ken, so fucking much.
I love you.
Your Lucas x
The next morning, I'm sitting in church, not listening. My mind going over every person Prue is in contact with. She's too fucking comfortable and happy, and for someone who apparently lost a baby, she's sure enjoying life.
I grunt when my phone rings, quickly trying to find it under the pile of paperwork I have on my desk at the club. I’ve been trying to go through the club's finances as treasurer but failing, my mind too busy hoping Ken will call.
My hands frantically move along the desk, my hope building that it’s my girl, when I grip the device and quickly look at the screen. I groan when I see it's the cunt who has gone to visit family for a few days.
"What do you want, Starlight?" I growl into the phone, not giving a shit that she no longer goes by the name.
