For the first time in my life, I feel like I might be ready to settle. To stay with one woman because I didn’twantanyone else. I just needed to test one theory before making such a big decision. Before discussing putting a label on us, because for the first time in life, I want one.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
KAYLA
I try to call Justin all day long, but he doesn't pick up the phone. Then I text him, and all of the messages stay ‘unread.’ It's not like him. We haven't seen each other in a couple days, and the last time we spoke was yesterday. He seemed a little off, saying he had some things to take care of. I let it go because if he wanted to, he’d tell me. Plus, I'm not in a position where I can demand answers—our relationships are very new and not even official.
By four in the afternoon, I begin to worry.
“Hey, Marina.”
“What’s up?” She asks from the coffee machine, chugging her fifth cup of coffee today. Well, someone must have been busy last night. Any other time I’d ask, but today my mind is ten thousand miles away.
"I feel like something might be wrong with Justin." Her face changes from relaxed to concerned: it looks like somebody grew to like the rough guy. "Do you think you'll be okay if I take a break now?"
“Sure, go ahead.” She waves me off. “Call if you need me.”
“Alright.” I take my apron off, grab my purse and hurry to Justin’s place. I don’t bother taking the car because it’s only a ten-minute walk, but I make it in six.
The garage is open, and the guys are working. I spot Paul and walk to him. “Hey, Paul. Have you seen Justin today?”
“Nah.” He says, “He’s probably sleeping.” He points to the stairs at the back.
“Okay. I’ll check on him.”
“Sure.” He shrugs and goes back under the hood of the car he’s working on. “Holler if you need my help.”
“Will do.” I will not. I don’t know the extent of their relationship, so I’ll keep whatever I find to myself.
I run up the stairs and go inside the apartment.
“Justin?” I call. “Hey, Jus, are you here?”
He doesn’t respond, so I walk around to check on things.
When I push the bedroom door open, I see a person on the bed.
On top of Justin.
He’s sleeping on his stomach, and a woman’s body is wrapped around him like a snake around a tree. When I see them, I let out a cry of pain. An arrow shoots through my chest, leaving a hole. All my happiness evaporates in an instant. It’s slowly dissolving into nothingness. I can't breathe, and I can't move.
He doesn't wake up from my cry because he doesn't hear me. I, out of anyone, should know that he sleeps like the dead after a good fucking. Every time we do it, his lights are out for hours. I can blast music in the morning and start vacuuming at the same time, and he would still sleep through it.
The woman stirs and looks up. I don’t know her name, but I’ve seen her with Madison, one of Ashley’s friends, around town. I think she is from Springfield. She looks thoroughly fucked: her eyelids are heavy, her hair is a mess, and she has burns on her face and neck from his stubble. I know what they look like because I see them every morning in the mirror… Used to see.
Disheveled pieces of clothing are scattered everywhere around the room.
I swallow a huge lump in my throat, not bothering to wipe the tears that begin streaming down my cheeks. The woman smiles as she places a hand on Justin's back and starts massaging it while he's out cold. I don't want to face him when he wakes up, so I don’t plan on waiting, and besides that, I don’t think he’d want me here. He made that pretty clear.
I turn around and walk outside through the back door.
When I’m on the ground, I find Jake leaning on his cruiser, looking happy and smug.
“What happened, trailer trash? You look like somebody’s kicked your puppy.” He chuckles at his own unfunny joke. I ignore him. “Oh, let me see. You probably just met Claudia, Jus’s friend. Yeah, they’ve been hooking up for a few weeks now.” His face changes to thoughtful. “Oh, wait. You didn’t really think that he was into you, did you? It’s clear as day for everyone that he was fucking his anger out on you.” He smirks, delivering the last blow.
I don't respond, but I wipe my tears away and go to my car. And he follows.
“What? You don’t have anything to say?” He falls in step behind me. He keeps chatting as I wipe the wetness from my face away. "C'mon, what did you expect?" He laughs, and I try not to listen. When we are at the front of the building, he is still there, still following, delivering death blow after a death blow, and each one lands in just the right place. I don’t know what he wants. I’m already on the ground, so he can stop any minute now.
