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Pulling out my phone, all I can do is call her. Unsurprisingly, she ignores the call. So I send a text instead, my blood pressure so high I can hear my pulse in my ears.
Derrick: Alina. Who the fuck are you with?
As soon as I send it, I know it's too aggressive, but what else can I do? She's with a stranger, putting miles between us with every second. I know where her father's house is, but I don't even know if that's where she's going.
What if she's going somewhere else? What if she's going back to Indiana?
The thought is so chilling that it makes me sick. If I have to live without Alina, then I don't want to. Not for a moment.
Alina: It's none of your business, Derrick ANDERS.
Derrick: Like hell it isn't.
Alina: Oh, so you get to know what I’m doing at all times now?
Derrick: Damn straight.
Alina: Too bad. Did you think I wouldn't realize you're the one who got me that job offer from RenTech's graphic design division? You know the job doesn't count if I didn't earn it with my talent, and I know good and well I never sent them a copy of my portfolio. So you're the one who's been controlling my future, and I don't like it.
Derrick: Angel, you're mine. You belong with me.
Alina: I don't even know who you are.
Derrick: Come home, and I'll explain everything.
Alina: That's what you've been saying for the past month, and you haven't made a single move in that direction. So no, I won't be coming home. And, Derrick? Don't contact me again.
That's the final text from Alina, and every single part of my life turns gray after that. I feel hollowed out, empty, like there's nothing left for me to live for. I knew the moment I saw her that we were connected, that I was destined to love her.
And now the worst possible thing has happened. She's gone, and it's all because of the walls I've built, the secrets I've kept.
I'm not a quitter, though. I take that all-encompassing grayness and force it away, transforming it into iron, immovable willpower. Alina needs some space, and I'll give it to her—at least some of it. But not forever. She might not be coming back, but that’s okay. I’ll show her what it means to be loved by Derrick Anders. What it means to belong to me.
9
ALINA
Once my father picks me up from Derrick’s, the conversation becomes awkward and stilted.
"So, uh, who were you staying with? I thought you had second thoughts about living with me when I got back and you were nowhere to be found."
I’m too tired to come up with a good lie and too worried that my dad would try to contact Derrick, so I take the honest route. "A guy named Derrick. Derrick Anders. We were dating, and it just didn't work out."
The car jerks and Dad makes a shocked sound. "D-do you mean Derrick Anders, the millionaire? Isn’t he like…40? I heard rumors he was living around here but?—"
My throat is tight, and I’m not sure I can handle a full confession, so I cut him off. "Yeah. So I'm ready to go home."
There’s a long pause. "Sure. Yeah. Let's go."
I can tell he has more questions but keeps them to himself—not without a significant amount of effort, though. When we get back to his house, where my little red Honda is still parked in the driveway, I quickly take my duffle bag and run upstairs, yelling some excuses behind me to Dad, who simply stands in the driveway looking stunned.
I collapse on the bed of the guest bedroom—my room, for however long I would stay in this house. I don't have a plan. Derrick doesn't try to call or text again after the first round of heated messages, and after a while, I have to turn off the notifications on my phone just so I don't have to wait so anxiously.
Every time it vibrates, I’m a split second away from giving in and calling him.
But I don’t. I can’t.
Derrick lied to me, kept things from me, and that's not okay.
