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“I guess Jackson is too.”
“He is.”
“I’m sorry, sister.”
“So am I. What are you going to do now?”
“Stay in Fort Worth. I’m keeping my duplex and resuming my dental hygienist position.”
“Okay.”
Rachel grew quiet for several long seconds. Then she told me about Rhys.
“I think you should know he punched his truck’s stereo, broke it, and his hand. He cut it, too, and it’s bleeding pretty badly.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“Where is he now?”
“He’s still driving home. Jackson told him to go to an ER somewhere, but he wouldn’t do it. He wants to wait until he gets here. He can be so damn stubborn.”
“I know he can,” I choked out. “I want him back. I want his stubbornness. I want him just the way he is because, to me, he’s perfect. I love him so much.”
“He loves you, too.”
“Shit, Macie is calling me.”
“Before you answer, know that I’m here for you. Call me anytime to talk, cry, scream, or whatever while working your way through all of this.”
“Thank you, sister.”
We hung up, and I went right into a conversation with Macie about Rhys. She’d called him to find out where he was so she could talk to him face-to-face. That was when he told her that he was on his way back to Cypress Hills and had also broken and cut his hand from punching his stereo.
Like Jackson had done, Macie told Rhys to find an ER to go to. Of course, he said no. At that point, Macie began talking to him about Chad and me. She assured Rhys that there was nothing romantic going on and then told him that he had overreacted. He hung up on her.
After she and I got off the phone, I called my parents about everything, and they gave me their complete understanding. Of course, they were extremely sad about Rhys and me being over and said they would pray for a miracle to bring us back together. I used to have faith in the miraculous, but not anymore.
CH 41 - #wasted
Rhys
Song: “Wasted On You” by Morgan Wallen
JACKSON WAS STILL pounding on my front door, but I wasn’t in the mood to see him or anybody. So I kept sitting on my couch with a glass of whiskey in my hand, staring at my TV.
“Rhys, answer the fucking door!” Jackson yelled.
I stayed where I was.
“I’m going to count to ten, and if you don’t let me in, I’m busting into your house!” my brother continued.
He started calling out numbers, so I got up from the damn couch. If I hadn’t, replacing my door would’ve been necessary. When I opened it, I glared at Jackson, and he glared back.
“Just leave me alone,” I told him.
He pushed past me and came into my house. “How much have you had to drink today?” he asked.
