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I ended the call as Grams walked by, talking about her lemon Bundt cake she’d made for the neighbors. A numbness slowly seeped through me. Nothing seemed important as if I could just sit here and stare at the wall. Let the world pass me by. Forget everything and just exist. Perhaps this was self-preservation, or my soul was backing out. Deciding it’d had all it could take.
•Thirty-Five •
I’d been fooled by the world’s prettiest blue eyes and most magical cunt in the goddamn world
Sebastian
The door to my set of rooms swung open, and Thatcher strolled inside. His gaze dropped to the bottle of whiskey in my hand, then back to me before he tossed something at me.
A new iPhone dropped in my lap. I didn’t reach to pick it up. Instead, I took another drink from the bottle.
Over the past three weeks, I’d found if I drank steadily all day, then I could stay in that balance of not giving a shit. So far, so good.
“Don’t smash that one,” Thatcher told me. “That’s the third phone in three weeks, and I’m done with replacing it.”
I shrugged. “Then, stop doing it.” Seemed like a reasonable suggestion.
“You need a goddamn phone. Just because you’re working on a visit to rehab soon doesn’t mean you aren’t required to be on call at all times.”
I laughed. Yeah, I would be real good at a job. Just point, and I’d shoot.
“How much longer is this shit gonna last?” he asked me.
I tilted my head and pretended to consider this. “I dunno. Perhaps if I keep it up, I’ll need shock therapy, and it will fry my brain. Tell me, does that take away memories?”
He gave me an annoyed glance, then headed back for the door. “Sober up. Breeders’ Cup is in two days, and with me there, you need to be in your right head here.”
“Ah, yes. The Breeders’ Cup. How could I forget? I’m surprised you aren’t there with Capri now. Didn’t she already leave?”
“I had planned to leave with her, but I’ve got you trying to kill your liver,” he replied. “Get sober, or I’ll hold your ass in a cold shower and pour coffee down your fucking throat until you are.”
I glared at the door after he was gone. Sobering up meant feeling. I didn’t want to do that. Every time I tried, it was too much. I couldn’t deal with it.
She’d been at Merce’s. The tracker on her phone had put her at Merce’s. And she hated me. The traitorous little hustler hated me. She’d made me think she felt something. I had believed it. All of it.
Hell, I had given her three days after leaving Merce’s and returning home to come find me. Call me. Fuck! Do something. Show me that she gave a fucking shit. But she never called.
I’d been fooled by the world’s prettiest blue eyes and most magical cunt in the goddamn world. Her birthday had come and gone. I’d had such big plans for that day. So much I wanted to experience with her. Places to take her. But she didn’t want me.
Picking up my phone, I started to slam it against the fireplace and stopped. Not again. It was time I got a grip. Standing up, I stared at the bottle in my other hand, and then I smashed it, letting what was left of the liquor to spray the floor around me.
Stepping over the broken glass, I headed back to my en suite to take a shower.
•Thirty-Six •
“You aren’t the first girl to reject him. But you’re the first one to wreck him.”
Royal
Picking up the last of the dishes, I headed back to the kitchen at the all-night diner I was now working at. I couldn’t trust Dad to stay home with Grams, so I waited until she went to bed at night before coming in to work until thirty minutes before she woke up. There weren’t as many customers as there were during the day, but we did get truckers, and they were normally good about tipping. Tonight, I’d had three, and I there was almost a hundred dollars tucked away in my pocket.
I missed going to classes. I even missed writing all those papers. But seeing as the police had escorted me off the campus the day I returned, that was no longer an option. They’d been tipped off about me. I didn’t have to ask by who. I just couldn’t understand why Sebastian would still want to hurt me. He’d done a fantastic job of it already. The embarrassment and humiliation—not to mention the trauma of being handcuffed and escorted off the Howison campus—were things he could have skipped.
Rodney had said he couldn’t have me coming in and playing pool anymore. He’d been questioned by the cops about it. Seemed Sebastian had made sure to slice me every way he could. Rodney’s dad owned the All-Right All-Night Diner Dive just off the interstate, and he’d gotten me a job here.
“Been a good night so far,” Linda, the night cook and extra server when needed, said to me with a smile as I entered the kitchen with the dirty dishes.
There were no busboys on the night shifts, so it was a my job to clean the booths and tables when the customers left.
