Текст книги "Indisputable"

Автор книги: A. M. Wilson

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR  

Tatum

Oh my God.  My heart beats so quickly, I’m sure I’m about to keel over in cardiac arrest.  I move in a slow pirouette as I’m mesmerized by the interior of the wood lodge we’ve stepped into.  It’s not really a lodge at all, though.  The building is more of an upscale restaurant and bar, and it has a dance floor!

The ceiling is all exposed wood beams, which meet in the corners of the unfinished walls.  The room is rustic and beautiful.  To my left is the restaurant; tables with white table cloths and single candles in the center, wait staff in pressed black slacks and crisp white shirts.  On the right is the bar; a long, lacquered top running along the length of the wall and lined with bar stools.  The perimeter has small, two-top tables surrounding the dance floor.  Along the back wall, a DJ uses his equipment to switch songs.  Between the two sides is a huge glass encased fire place with a hearty fire roaring quietly inside.

The place reminds me of a wedding reception.  It’s warm and romantic and beautiful.  I have never, in my entire life, been anywhere even remotely close to this.  I’m a bit overwhelmed.

“Are you ready for dinner, Sweetheart?” Jacoby whispers in my ear, and I jolt at the feel of his warm breath feathering across my exposed neck.  He chuckles, then grasps my hand, threading my fingers through the curve of his elbow and leads me to the left.

“Y-yes.  Jacoby, this is, I mean, I’m speechless.  Thank you for bringing me here.”

He chuckles again and presses his lips against my hair as we stop in front of a hostess stand at the entrance to the restaurant.

“You seem a bit shell shocked.  Relax, love.  Enjoy yourself.”

I simply nod as I ponder his words.  Enjoy yourself.

When was the last time I really enjoyed myself?  I could rack my brain for hours and probably wouldn’t come up with anything.  Well, except one thing.  Him.

My most joyous moments over the last two months have all involved Jacoby.  Whether it was exchanging knowing glances and shy grins, relaxing in his embrace, holding hands, cuddling, making love, hell, even arguing, every moment spent with him has been life changing.  I went from this bitter girl with a penchant for hurting herself to a vulnerable woman who is falling in love.  I’ve started to shed the notion that the world is out to get me.  I’m realizing that the pain, the heartache, the distress of feeling unloved and unwanted my whole life was entirely worth it if I get to have Jacoby by my side.

By the time dinner is over, I’m full of delicious food and completely content with my life.  Jacoby and I shared small conversation over mouthwatering filet mignon, creamy mashed potatoes, and a winter blend of steamed vegetables.  We followed the meal with a shared slice of cheesecake, topped with cherries, for dessert.  I told him about my goals when I graduate.  He seemed quietly relieved when I mentioned moving away from this town, maybe even this state.  I was too scared to bring it up yet, but I’m quietly hoping if I decide to leave, he’ll follow.

“Dance with me.”

I look up from where I was studying my lap to see Jacoby standing in front of me, his hand outstretched in invitation.  I put my hand in his, and he gives me a tight squeeze before leading me out to the dance floor.

Jacoby curls a tendril of my hair around his finger, seemingly lost in thought for a moment before he twirls us in a slow spin.  The floor is crowded with people dancing and laughing together.  Although it’s busy, the place isn’t rowdy, which I appreciate.  This night is about us, and I’d rather not have it spoiled by a bunch of drunks.

We move in slow circles, our bodies fluidly reciprocating the moves of one another.  My fingers lightly play with the long strands at the back of his neck.  With each spin, I relax more and more until eventually, I’m floating on air.  The tension from the past few weeks is suddenly gone.  I feel lighter than ever.  I rest my cheek against the warm pectoral of Jacoby’s chest, listening to the gallop of his heartbeat beneath my ear.  This is perfection.

Jacoby’s hands softly caress my waist as we dance, and I can’t help but hope that this is perfection for him, too.

We’ve ridden the ride; a roller coaster of ups and downs, twists and turns.  We’ve pushed each other away and grasped one another as a life line.  We’ve fought for what was right and moral, and when that became too much, we fought against it.  We fought for what was right in our hearts.  We stopped battling the feelings of the rest of the world and instead, held tighter to our feelings for each other.  Because when it comes down to it, the rest of the world doesn’t matter.  Our feelings are true and real.  We found something in one another we’ve both been missing, and what can possibly be wrong with finding your other half?

The answer is: nothing.

When you spend your life living for everyone else, rising to expectations, and trying not to disappoint, you aren’t living.  You’re wasting.  Wasting the gift so many others have had tragically ripped away and cut short.  Live for yourself.  Protect that gift.  Nurture and cherish it so it can grow and have meaning.

Nearly two months ago I was hollow, with only the sharp presence of my blade to remind me I was alive.  Jacoby took that away from me but gave me a gift in return.  He taught me how to live.

As we gently sway wrapped up in each other’s arms, contained in our own private bubble, the song dwindles down to the last few notes.  Jacoby presses his lips to mine in a warm, inviting kiss.  My mind swirls with a blissfully quiet mist as I feel and touch and taste my hopes and dreams on his lips.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against mine.  We breathe our mingled breaths while gazing into each other’s eyes.

“Stay here.  I’ll be right back.”

I hold our spot near the middle of the dance floor while Jacoby walks up to the DJ.  He speaks to him briefly before coming back to me and scooping me in his arms.

“What was that about?” I ask as the melodic piano chords float in the air around us.  Jacoby brings his mouth to my ear and begins singing the lyrics to Rascal Flatts “I Won’t Let Go” in his deep, rich voice.  I gasp when he sings the chorus, and his grip tightens around my waist.  We stay like this, clinging to one another while the music plays.

As the last strains of the song play, and my eyes are watering with tears, Jacoby sends me away from him in an elegant twirl that has me giggling.  He pulls me back into his embrace and halts our slow dancing.  Our eyes lock.  A burning fire of passion is reflected in his gaze.  The deep brown reminds me of quicksand, and I’m stuck.  Sinking.  Sinking.  Sinking.

“I wanted to give something to you.  Something beautiful, something permanent,” he says.  I freeze; my mind a whirlwind of promises and rings and futures.  What does he mean?  He quietly laughs, breaking through my panic.

“Not what you’re thinking, Sweetheart.  Not yet, anyways.”

“Okay, good,” I breathe.  “I mean…it’s not—.ˮ

He silences me with his thumb against my lips while his fingers caress my jaw.

“I know.  It’s too soon for that.  I need to hear you say you love me first.”  Jacoby grins, and his smile cuts through my tension.  “What I was going to say was that these past few weeks have been difficult at times.  We’ve had some rough moments, but we’ve also had some amazing ones as well.  And in the end, every second I’ve spent with you has been entirely worth it.  This weekend is about us.  It’s about showing you that you are loved, and that for as long as you’ll have me, I’ll be by your side every step of the way.  I’ll fight for you, for us.  The consequences be damned.  I wanted to give you a memory, something you’ll keep in here,” he says as he places a hand over my pounding heart.  He stares intently into my crying eyes as he professes, “I’m yours.”

I whimper as he places a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth before wiping my tears with his thumbs.  “And I’m yours, Jacoby.”

He smiles a breathtaking grin at me and wraps me in his arms.  “That’s all I’ll ever ask for.”

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE  

Jacoby

A dream.  That’s what my life feels like these days.  The kind of dream that comes between sleep and awake, where you know you’re dreaming but everything feels so damn real.  If someone were to pinch me, I’m certain I’d wake up.

But it’s not a dream.  The past two months have definitely been real life.  I still can’t understand how I ended up lucky enough to find someone as perfect as Tatum.

Our relationship has been life changing; for the both of us.  My past is still reflected around me when I remember why I moved here, but the guilt doesn’t weigh as heavily as before.  Tatum has helped me with that.  Her thoughtfulness, her words, her very essence has helped guide me back to the light.  I still have my moments; a nightmare here or there after we’ve talked about it.  But when I wake up from thrashing around in my sleep, I have Tatum’s warm body there to comfort me.  Her soothing whispers carry away my pain.

She’s been remarkably strong as well.  Only a week and a half has passed since she told me she wanted to stop, and not once has she needed to hurt herself.  I’ll catch her eyes drift to the bands she still wears as shields on her wrists while we watch TV or lie in bed.  I know she’s thinking about the marks there, possibly even remembering.  But she’s strong.  I know she would come to me before she hurt herself again.  She had her first counseling appointment on Monday, and I’m confident with her newfound support system, she can beat the ghosts of her past.

Today is Wednesday, and I’m sitting in my classroom first period correcting tests.  Or trying to.  My thoughts keep drifting to the weekend we shared, to the way Tatum secured her place in my heart by declaring she’s mine.  No sweeter words have ever been spoken.

After we left the lodge, we spent the rest of the weekend in our hotel room wrapped up in bed.  It was pure bliss.  Every day following seems to be more and more difficult to keep our distance.  I know we’re pushing the limits, but we just can’t stop.  It’s an addiction with the highest power to control our mind and our hearts.

The bell rings, and the hallway fills with sounds as students leave first period to head to their second class.  As students begin trickling in, I can’t help the pang of longing I get when Tatum’s face doesn’t appear.  I miss the days she sat on her stool scowling at me, and bickering, and defying me with her phone.  Mostly, I miss getting to see her twice a day.  I think we need to have an impromptu lunch date.

I quickly type out a text just as the warning bell rings.  Meet me in my room for lunch.

“Okay, class.  I have your tests corrected.  We’re going to review so I can answer any questions.”  Only two hours to go…

***

A soft knock sounds on the door five minutes into lunch period, and a small smile tugs on my lips.  I’ve been desperate to see her all morning.

“Come in,” I yell.  The door clicks open, and Tatum walks inside.  God, she’s a vision in her short jean skirt and fitted black shirt.  The fabric hangs loose around her shoulders, falling off one side to reveal a black bra strap.  There’s plenty of room to pull the loose neck forward to reveal her perfectly round, firm breasts.  Her hair is hanging around her shoulders in a mass of beautiful curls.  Just gorgeous.

I walk to the door, locking it and turning out the lights.  My hands fit themselves into the slim curve of her waist, and she melts into me, letting her book bag drop to the floor, and pressing soft kisses along the column of my throat.

“Did anyone see you come in?” I ask, my voice a deep, husky rumble.

“Mmm, nope.  Hallway was clear,” she replies between kisses.

“Mmm, indeed.”

Our lips meld together in a scorching kiss.  I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of her sweet taste or the soft whimpers that crawl up her throat.  Her hands fist in my hair as I deepen the kiss and she rubs her soft body against mine.

I pull away from her mouth and rest my forehead against hers.  If I don’t stop now, I’m going to devour her.

“I’ve missed you.”

Tatum giggles softly.  “It’s only been a few hours,” she says.

I bury my face in the curve of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of apricots.  “True.  But it’s been too long.”

“I know,” she sighs.  Her eyes are closed, and she rests her head against the wall behind her.  “Only a few more weeks before we don’t have to do this anymore.”

“Then you’re off to college.”  I smile at her before taking her hand and leading her to my desk.  I sit in the black rolling chair and pull her into my lap.  My hand caresses the bare, silky skin of her thigh.

“Then I’m off to college,” she agrees.

“Have you thought about what you want to do next?  I know you want to get away from this place.”

Tatum stares across the room thoughtfully.  She grabs my hand, the one drawing circles, and halts my movements.  “I think I’m going to stay long enough to get my generals done.  I need to save up more money before…I leave.”  Her beautiful face is etched with lines of distress, and I want to take it away.

“Tatum,” I call, tilting her face back to mine with a finger beneath her chin.  “If everything works between us, if you’ll still have me, I’d follow you anywhere.”  Her eyes widen infinitesimally before she looks away again.

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.  You already uprooted your life once.  I wouldn’t want you to resent me.”

“Sweetheart, look at me.”  She does, and her eyes are heartbreaking.  The hazel depths swirl with desire and longing.  Christ, she’s undoing me.  “I uprooted myself because I didn’t have a life left.  Now I do.”  I watch, transfixed, as the meaning seeps in, and her eyes blaze with desire.

“Do you mean that?” she whispers against my lips.

“More than anything.”

I take her mouth again.  Her lips and teeth and tongue fight with mine, but in the end, I win and her body surrenders to me.  She rearranges herself on my lap so she’s straddling my hips, and I can’t help thinking about how easy it’d be to unzip my fly, sink inside of her, and let her ride me.

A shrill bell rings.

“Fuck.  You have to go,” I grit out as she scrambles from my lap.  I have to adjust myself in my slacks.  We rush to the door, and I rearrange a few wild strands of her hair.

“You’re a bit flushed.”

“So are you,” I whisper against her lips, giving her one last kiss.  “It’s a good look.”

I flick on the lights, praying nobody outside noticed the darkness from beneath the door.  Unlocking the handle, I let Tatum step out into the hallway first and breathe a sigh of relief when I realize it was just the warning bell.  Only a few students are out here, and they don’t spare more than a glance in our direction.

“So, review that worksheet I gave you and that should help you on your next test,” I say, trying to remove any possible suspicion.  Tatum looks at me quizzically before the light dawns in her eyes, and she smiles.

“Sure, thanks for your help, Mr. Ryan.”

“Well, well, well.  Did you think I wouldn’t figure out who you were?”  A cold sensation slithers along my spine when I recognize that voice.  Wyatt.  Fuck.

“What are you doing here, Wyatt?” Tatum asks in a low voice, taking a step towards him.  I have to quell the urge to push her behind me.  I don’t want her anywhere near this fucker.

“You’ve been avoiding me, baby.  I thought you needed a little reminder of where you belong.”

“And where is that?  Because it sure as hell isn’t with you!” she spits.  My blood fucking boils.  I need to get him out of here before he ruins everything we’ve worked so hard to keep a secret.

“You need to leave.  You’re trespassing.”  My voice comes out calm and steady but inside, I’m enraged.  I can see Tatum trembling out of the corner of my eye, and I wish I could do something more to protect what’s mine.  My arms ache with the need to take her and comfort her from this prick.

“Funny you say that.  I’m actually here to meet with the principal.  I’ll be on my way.  Don’t want to keep him waiting.  You two have a nice day.”  The fucker has the audacity to wink before he starts to turn away.

“Wait!” Tatum calls out.  Fuck!

“Yeah, baby?”

“Please, please leave, Wyatt.  Don’t do this,” she pleads.

“Tatum—“.  I start, but that fucker cuts me off.

“God, I love it when you beg,” he groans.

“Don’t you fucking talk to her,” I snarl under my breath.  The hall is starting to fill up, and if we aren’t careful, we’ll have an extremely judgmental audience.

“Wyatt,” Tatum starts again.  “Please.  You know nothing good will come out of this, for either of us.  If you walk down to his office, that’s it.  I’ll report your assault to the police.”

And ugly look crosses Wyatt’s face, and I brace.  If I have to take him down, I will.  My control is only so strong.

“Nobody will believe you.  We’ve fucked plenty of times.  I can say it was all your idea,” he sneers.

“Don’t forget we had a witness.”  She gestures to me with a nod of her head.  “Sure, we might get into some trouble, but you can’t deny what you did.  I had bruises for days.  My friends saw them, too.  You’ll never get away with this.  You’ll go to jail.”

Wyatt seems to contemplate her words before he looks at us with his own mask of anger.  “Fuck.  Fine,” he spits.  “But this shit isn’t done.  You belong to me.”

I’ve had enough.  This ends.  Now.  “It is done.  Finished.  You don’t leave her alone, you say one word to anyone, and we’re going down to the police station and making a report.  I’m not fucking around.”

“You can have her.  Who knows where that cunt as been.  I’m out of here.”  Wyatt pushes past a group of students near the mouth of the hall, but from the looks of it, we didn’t gather anyone’s attention.

“You okay?” I ask, because Tatum is unnaturally silent beside me.  I can only imagine what’s running through her head right now.  God, I want to pull her into my arms and hold her tight enough to make her worries fade.

She looks up at me and smiles, but it seems uncertain.  “Yeah.  I just really hope this is the end of him.”

“It is,” I vow.  “He’s not going to hurt you again.  I wish I could do something right now to ease your worries, but you have to get to class, Sweetheart.  I’ll see you in calculus.”

“It’s okay.  I’ll see you later.”

I watch as Tatum walks away, and I greet the students entering my class.  There’s a cloud of unease swirling in my gut that won’t go away.  Wyatt better leave us alone after this, because I meant what I said.  I will make him pay.

As I turn to go into class, my cell vibrates from my pocket.  I forgot it was in there and not in my brief case where I usually leave it.  When I answer the call, my whole world tilts.  A new change is coming, and it effectively cuts me off at the knees.  My mind turns into a single track.  I’m out of time.

I need to get out of here.

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX  

Tatum

The second the bell rings, I’m out of my seat and tearing down the hall to the parking lot.  I pass masses of students coming out of their sixth period classes, but I’m ahead of the herd.  I don’t have time for obstacles.  I have to get home…to Jacoby’s home.  He’s there waiting for me.  He has to be.  There’s a valid explanation why he wasn’t here for calculus.

I know with everything I am that he wouldn’t leave without telling me.  He wouldn’t leave me behind.

I drive like a psycho, running stop signs and ignoring the speed limit.  My mind is a one track train from hell and I’m forcing myself to stay positive.  We’re okay.  Jacoby is okay.  Everything is okay.  I’ve fought too hard to have this happiness in my life; I’m not about to let it be taken away without one last battle.

I hit the garage door opener as I round the corner of Jacoby’s street.  My blood roars in my ears as the door lifts painfully slow.  Just a crack inching open little by little.

He’s here.

He’s here.

He has to be here.

I jump the curb, cutting over the patch of browning grass between his house and the next, and blow out a gigantic breath when I see the dark blue bumper of his car peek out beneath the rising door.

Thank God.

Pulling in beside him, I cut the engine, hit the opener again, and race into the house.

“Jacoby?” I yell, my voice echoing throughout the open spaces.

Silence.

The room smells of Jacoby, the familiar sweet, woodsy scent and something else uniquely him.  It wraps around me like a shield, and my mind relinquishes its racing thoughts.  I charge through the empty living room and into the kitchen.  Empty.  Turning on my heel, I race down the hall to the spare bedroom and bathroom.  Both empty.

“Jacoby, where are you?” I shout, my voice shrill to my own ears.  The panic is rising, cresting, consuming my chest and my lungs and my heart.

When I hit the top of the stairs, I throw the bedroom door open with so much force it cracks against the wall.  I don’t have to step inside the room to know he isn’t here either.  The space is too still, too quiet, like the air itself hasn’t been disturbed since we both left for school this morning.

“Jacoby, where are you?” I whisper into the nothingness.  The room doesn’t answer me as I enter the space we shared as recently as this morning.  The bed we slept in, the shower we made love in, all of it is as quiet and as clueless as the inanimate objects they are.

Tears tickle my eyelids, and I can’t hold them back any longer.  They rush down my cheeks in a torrent of pain and fear.  I curl into a ball on my side in the center of the bed, and rest my cheek against the soft comforter.

Love is a strange thing.  Sometimes it finds you when you aren’t even looking.  Other times it requires you to fight with all the energy you have, and then some, to prove yourself worthy.  Regardless of how it came to be, when it’s gone, it treats us all the same.  It rips you wide open, leaving a gaping, unfillable hole in its absence.  Leaving you forever changed.

I don’t know how long I lie in this bed, watching the rays of sun sink across the wall until only dark shadows remain.  My only company is the thoughts swirling around my head.  Thoughts of love and loss, of mistakes and pain.

Desperation.

The room grows dark and shadows crawl like living beings across the wall.  My tears eventually dry.  My eyelids droop, and I feel like sleep could take me away.  But a loud knock coming from down stairs has me suddenly wide awake.  I bolt from the room and take the stairs two at a time, rushing towards the sound.  When I hit the living room, the loud knocking sounds from the door, and I fling it open without checking the peephole.

“Trey,” I cry out before lunging at the big man wearing a mask of confusion in the doorway.  I wrap my arms around his thick neck and burrow my face in his wide chest as a torrent of tears stream from my eyes.  Trey lifts my body with him as he walks inside the house, shutting the door and leading me to the couch.  All the while I cry.

“Shh, honey.  What’s going on?  Where’s Jacoby?” he asks.  Something about his tone, about the careful way he delivers the question has my tears immediately calming, and I look up at his concerned blue gaze.

“I don’t know.  He’s gone, and I think…I think he had to leave.  Someone found out about us.”

Simultaneously, Trey’s body locks tight, and he closes his eyes.  When he opens them again, his face is carefully blank.

“What makes you say that?”

I sit with Trey while he holds my hand, and I fill him in on the events of the past day.  The more I talk, the more agitated he becomes until he jumps up from the couch and begins pacing the room.  His behavior is frightening, and it gives me a deep feeling of dread in my gut.

“Trey,” I begin cautiously.  “What aren’t you telling me?”

“When was the last time you spoke to him?” he asks, and I don’t even have to think about it.  Our routine has been the same ever since I started staying at his house.  We don’t text back and forth all day because Jacoby has been adamant that I pay attention in class.  I see him in the morning, then we both leave for school in our own cars.  We text a bit during second period, because he knows I have study hall.  Most days we’d meet up for lunch in his classroom.  Just thinking about what happened today has a wave of bile rising in my throat.  We were so damn stupid.

“I saw him during lunch.  Someone found out about us and threatened to tell the principal.  I thought we had it handled.  Jacoby told me he’d see me during sixth period.  It’s his calculus class.  After that, we usually leave in our separate cars and come home, but today, he wasn’t in class.  He hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts.”

Trey looks away from where I’m seated and stares silently at the wall.  The anxiety building inside of me is becoming harder to contain with each second that passes.  This is all my fault.

“He sent me a text around 1:30 today.”

Instantly, I’m on high alert.  “Tell me what he said, Trey.” Dread creeps stealthily through my veins as Trey kneels before me and grabs my clammy hands from my lap.

“I’m not sure what he meant.  It was short, and he didn’t respond when I questioned him further.”

“Tell me,” I whisper.  My voice sounds small and fragile.  A true reflection to how I feel right now.

“He said, ‘I’ll be back, but I have to leave.”

Icy water swims through my veins.  I cup my hands over my mouth to hold in a sob as my body shudders.  This can’t be happening.  We were so close.  So close to being free to live our lives without repercussions, and one mistake is all it takes.  He left me.

“How could he leave me?” I cry.

“Honey, we don’t know that.  We don’t know where he went.  Maybe he just needed to clear his head,” Trey soothes while rubbing circles on the backs of my hands.  But I won’t hear any of it.  His words aren’t penetrating the fog of despair clouding my mind.  He left me.  He left me.  It’s all I can think.  It shrouds me in my own personal hell.

The world around me tilts and swirls as I feel the loss of control I’ve battled my entire life returning.  The feelings I worked so hard to silence bubble up to the surface, proving to me I hadn’t really overcome them.  They were never gone.  They were only biding their time.  Knowing I was still weak, and waiting for me to break.

I’m broken, and I’m desperate for relief.

I feel crazed and powerless.  In a move that shocks us both, I tear my hands out of Trey’s grasp and leap over the back of the couch with one destination in mind: the kitchen.  If I can get a knife, I can regain some control.

I’m frantic and needy, and my palms are slick as I yank open drawers to find something sharp.  Where does he keep all his knives?

“Honey, what are you doing?”  Trey’s voice sounds from behind me, quiet and cautious.

I’m out of time.  I’m out of time. I’m out of time.

The last drawer I yank open holds my prize.  I grab the first knife I see, a small fillet knife, and without pause I skate the sharp edge up my forearm.  Blood immediately bubbles to the surface where my flesh tears, and I let out a harsh cry.  Instead of the heady rush I’m accustomed to, all I feel is pain.  And shame.  I drop the knife in shock and lock eyes with Trey.  A mask of sheer horror is frozen on his face.

“No!” He shouts before wrapping his strong arms around me.  He kicks the knife away and sinks us both to the kitchen floor.

“I’m sorry.”  The only words that feel appropriate enough for what I just did.  What I just ruined.  I broke a promise to myself, to Jacoby.  I’ve only had one counseling session so far, and I broke a promise to my counselor, too.

I hardly notice as Trey grabs a towel from the drawer behind us and wraps my arm tight, holding pressure with one hand while he holds onto me with the other.  I don’t have any words to offer him that will express my shame, so I just keep repeating “I’m sorry,” over and over again.  My head rests on his muscled chest, and he strokes my hair until my words become whispered and the sky becomes dark.  Eventually, I drift off to a restless sleep.

I wake up the next morning to harsh bright light from the rising sun, and the loud blaring sound of Jacoby’s alarm on his phone.

Jacoby’s phone!

I frantically hop out of bed, trying to untangle myself from the blankets and wincing in pain when my arm gets wrapped and pulled in the sheet.  I don’t remember going to bed last night, which means Trey probably brought me up here sometime after I drifted to sleep.

Or maybe Jacoby came home and brought me to bed.  Why else would his phone be here.  But then, why isn’t he in bed with me?

Circling the bed, I drop to my knees and find his phone underneath the night table.  That’s an odd place for his phone.  He must have dropped it at some point.  My hope sinks.  If his phone was here all this time, it would explain why he isn’t answering any attempts to contact him.

What was so important he left without his phone?  Is this his way of cutting off all communication with me?

I silence the alarm and sit back on my heels.  My hands shake as I skim through his inbox, seeing several texts from myself and Trey, but that’s it.  Doesn’t he have any other friends here?  My heart breaks a little when I think of how kind and generous he’s been to me.  God, if I can get him back, I’ll repay the favor tenfold.  I’ll make him so happy.  He has Trey, and now he has me.  I just need to find him first.

I open his call list as Trey knocks on the bedroom door, cracking it open as he does.  “What was that sound?” he asks when he sees I’m awake.

“I found Jacoby’s phone.” I show him the device as I move to sit on the bed.  Trey sits down beside me.  Just like his inbox, the call list is short.  However, one name stands out as an incoming call around noon yesterday.  “Who’s Brent?”

Trey studies me.  “Did you two ever talk about your pasts?”

“We did,” I confirm.  “I know about how he grew up, and I know about Harper.  What does this have to do with his past?”

“Brent is Harper’s brother.”

I’m stunned before confusion sets in.  “What does this mean?  Do you think he didn’t leave because of me?”