I feel disgusted and pissed off that a man would ever treat a woman like that.
Tom is a piece of shit.
I lather a sponge with body wash and scrub down every last inch of my skin, trying to eradicate that horrible stench.
Finally, I turn off the shower and walk back into my bedroom, where I sort through my closet and grab something casual. Just some jeans and a black V-neck sweater. Once I’m dressed, I grab my phone and dial Katie’s number.
She doesn’t answer.
Frustrated, I slam my palm onto the dresser. It rattles, bringing my attention to a set of keys that I hadn’t noticed before.
They’re the keys to her apartment, and an idea leaps into my head. If she doesn’t want to talk to me over the phone, then I’m just going over there. She’ll have no choice but to talk to me when I’m front and center, demanding her attention.
I walk into Katie’s apartment as quietly as possible. It’s a little weird that I’ve let myself in like I own this place, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
I have no idea what to expect. Everything seems normal enough. All of the lights are off, and everything’s nice and tidy.
Slowly, I head toward Katie’s bedroom, passing the guest room. To my surprise, it’s empty. Huh? Wasn’t her mother supposed to come live with her? So where’s all of the mom’s stuff? I don’t waste time trying to figure it out. That’s an issue for another day.
Instead, I push open Katie’s bedroom door and tiptoe inside.
Katie’s fast asleep in her bed. Alone.
Okay.
For some reason, I backtrack, trying to find her mother.
I step into the spare room; it’s completely vacant. No one has been in here. There are no clothes in the closet and nothing in the attached bathroom. A layer of dust covers just about everything. It doesn’t even look like Katie has had any visitors over.
So if her mother’s not here, then where is Meredith? I search the rest of the home to no avail. Has Katie been living by herself all this time?
A sense of guilt tightens around my heart. Did I make a mistake? I thought she was attached at the hip to her mother, which is something I didn’t want to get into. But right now, the evidence doesn’t prove that point at all.
No wonder Katie went out with Tom Benning – she must have been lonely, living in this space as a single girl.
Maybe I should just leave.
But if I leave, then Tom might get to her again, and I don’t even want to think about what that asshole is capable of. He doesn’t have her best interests in mind. All he wants is a good time, and I need to protect her from that dick.
I linger in the living room, a dark thought passing through my head. Have they had sex? Has Tom touched my woman?
God, he better hope not because if I find out he has, he’s not going to be a pretty boy anymore. I’ll knock him back into next year. Trust me.
Figuring Katie needs some time to rest, I enter the kitchen and start making an omelet. As the eggs sizzle, I pop some bread into the toaster. Then I open the refrigerator, looking for orange juice only to remember that she prefers apple juice in the morning, so I pour her a glass and place it on a tray. Once all of the food is ready, I assemble it as nicely as possible before taking it to her. “Hey, sleepyhead, wake up.”
Katie moans and turns over, rubbing her eyes. “Bruce?”
“Hi, baby.” I set the tray down on the dresser and then start plumping her pillows. “Here.” I offer my hand, helping her sit up.
I glance at her. From the way her hair looks all pushed up to one side, still slightly damp, I can tell that she came home, took a shower, and then went to bed, falling asleep with wet hair.
Gently, I smooth it out for her and plant a kiss on the top of her head. She looks up at me before I get the tray and place it on her lap. “Eat up. You’ve lost weight.”
Katie picks at the food. I can tell that she doesn’t have much of an appetite right now. “What happened last night?”
My eyes slide away.
“You put yourself in the wrong man’s hands, that’s what happened,” I tell her. “So, how long have you and Tom been seeing each other?”
Katie looks me in the eye and tells me everything.
“We’re not going out. I happened to bump into him while shopping a while back, and he’s invited me to go to some places. But it’s not like we’re dating or anything. If anything, we really don’t get along.”
A sense of relief washes over me, but I still have to ask the question that’s been eating away at my thoughts. “Did you let him fuck you?”
