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“Scar?” she says, and the somber urgency in her voice makes my insides jump. “Part of me was hoping you would get to have that talk with him today. About the other thing. I think you need to share that with someone.”
“I’ve shared it with you.” I knew it was a bad argument before it rolled from my lips.
“Only because I happened to be with you and drove you to the hospital.”
“I know.”
“What about your mom? You know she would understand in her own way.”
Something inside me clenches. “I’m not burdening her with that.” I can’t. “I think she knows something’s been up with me, but I don’t plan on telling her what.” Maybe at a later time. Maybe never at all.
She doesn’t push. “Okay,” she concedes. “Just promise eventually you’ll talk to someone. Like a counselor. Someone.”
“Promise.” The phone chimes with a call. I pull back to see an unknown number and send it to voicemail.
“Oh, and Stephen called to see if I’d heard from you. Were you supposed to—”
“Crap. He invited me to lunch. I forgot all about it.” My phone chimes again, but this time, it’s a text. “Hang on,” I say, and look at the phone. The text is from the same number as the call:
Hey it’s Jake. Call me.
“Oh my God,” I gasp.
“Scar?”
I put the phone back up to my ear. “Let me call you back.”
“What happened?”
“Jake. He just…texted. He wants me to call him.”
“Wait, what? How does he know your number?”
“I’m guessing his manager gave it to him.”
“Whoa.”
“Let me call you back.”
“Call me back.”
I hang up with her and pace the living room. Could he have suddenly remembered? Or maybe he’s calling to beg me not to run the story?
I go to the call recording app on my phone and debate activating it before I call him back. If I’m a part of the conversation, it’s not illegal in Georgia to record it, even if the other person doesn’t know.
I decide against it and call him back. He immediately answers. “Hey.”
My heart kicks. “Hi, Jake Mitchell?”
“Yes. Look. I’m sorry about earlier. Kicking you out like that.”
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I don’t. It was entirely his right.
He continues, “That wasn’t the visit I was…expecting.”
“What were you expecting?”
“Not that.”
