“My guess is because I’m your friend too, and she didn’t want to put a strain on our relationship. Even though I’m on her side, no matter what you did.” She says harshly.
"I don't know what I did!" I shout into the phone.
“Oh, how does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine, huh?" Freya isn't a mean person per se, but at this moment, she sounds evil as fuck.
I still. “Is that what this is about? To punish me?" It can't be true; that's just not Kayla. But on the other hand, I don’t know jack shit about what’s happening.
I hear a loud sigh on the other side of the line. "No, Justin. I don't think it is, but you clearly did something big enough to finally send her out of town, and she didn't tell me what."
I, indeed, taste my own medicine. She asked me what she had done so many times over the last six years, and every time I snapped at her, demanding she leave me alone without giving any explanation when she really wasn't even the one to blame. Yeah, that shit tastes terrible.
I stoop to begging. "Can you at least tell me if she's okay?"
"She is." She's quiet, and I can almost hear her thinking. "She took Archie's offer."
She mumbles.
I feel the world around me crumbling down, like a house of cards when someone pulls a card from the bottom. The one card that was holding the whole thing together. "What?" I ask.
"It's good for her. She needs to move on; she can't do that by being stuck here. She’s an artistic person; she has a talent, and she's wasting it here."
"I know," I growl. God, do I know. Every time she touches paper, a work of art appears. I wanted to ask her to make a tattoo design for me because I'm finally ready, and I know I'll be more attractive to her. She loves tattoos so much, and she likes me, so I figured she'd like me even more if I had one or two. Or liked. So I thought.
Then Freya asks the question of the year. “What did you do, Justin?”
"I don't know, Freya. I really don't." I hang up and climb back into the car.
What do I do next? What are my options?
Marina! She'll either shoot me, or she'll talk to me. Worth trying.
I drive to her house and knock on the door. She doesn't answer, so I keep knocking until Marina appears in the doorway a minute later.
"Oh, you got some nerve showing up here." She takes a defensive pose, her hands on her hips.
I ignore her battle stance. “Do you know where she is?”
She snorts at my obviously stupid question. “Of course, I do.”
“Where?”
"Seriously?" She quirks a brow, her eyes narrowing into slits.
“Can you at least tell me why she left?” I plant a hand on the doorway.
She laughs and closes the door in my face, barely missing my fingers. At least she didn’t shoot me.
Back in my truck, I sit and think about where it all went wrong. Why am I hurting so much, and why does this heavy weight stay on my chest? And why can't I breathe? And why do my eyes sting?
* * *
By the time I'm back home, the suffocating smell is gone, but it doesn't make me feel any better. Not in the slightest. I want Kayla's strawberry smell back.
My apartment is clean—of course, not my doing. But it's missing the most vital piece that made it home for me:her. It’s missing Kayla.I’mmissing Kayla. And I'm so fucking mad at her for leaving like that. Did our relationship mean so little to her that she could just up and go? DidImean so little?
The days blur into one. I ask everyone the same questions over and over again, and I drink, and I crash. I pick a fight or two with people, but it doesn't make me feel any better. My parents tried to talk to me to figure out what's happening, but I shut them down. Alicia doesn't try, but she calls. Every single day. She's never called so many times in her entire life, but now she suddenly wants to know how my day is going. Only Jake avoids me. Weirdly, he hasn't called even once, and it's been weeks since I've entered this constant alcoholic rage.
Today, Alex barrels into my place as I'm slumped on the couch, nursing a bottle of my friend Jack in my hands. He stops in the middle of the room and looks around in disgust. I blink at him, my head cocking to the side in question.
