Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5), стр. 58
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Late that night, I was prepping to close at work when none other than Justin walked through the door. But I was exhausted by then, more mentally than physically, and I wasn’t in the mood for anything else emotional, so I simply said hi.
“What the hell was that voicemail all about?”
Or so I’d thought. This man could bring out my inner beast.
“Christ, Justin, seriously? How many times do I have to call you and ask you to call me back? What was it about that one that got your attention?”
“Your message sounded like you thought I was avoiding you. So here I am. Why did you think I was dodging you?”
“You think your pet bitch might have something to do with it?”
“My pet bitch?”
“Yeah. Chelsea.”
“What the hell are you doing calling her?”
“You tell me. She answered your phone.”
“What? When?”
“More than once.”
“Doesn’t make sense. We haven’t hung out in a few days.”
I shrugged, punching some buttons on the computer screen to remind him that I should be working—but I didn’t say another word.
He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started swiping through the screen. Meanwhile, I started bagging up the trash below the counter. Almost under his breath, Justin said, “Son of a bitch.”
“What?”
“That conniving little bitch forwarded my calls to her phone.” He continued tapping his phone while he continued talking. “But that doesn’t explain why you’ve been blowing me off.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I texted you a bunch of times.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yeah, I did.” He handed his phone to me and, sure enough, Rascal had a bunch of recent text messages I’d never seen.
“I never got any of those, Justin.” He raised his eyebrows as I held out my hand. “Can I see your phone?”
“It’s obviously not working.”
I had some suspicions about that. Pulling up his contacts, I found myself in his small list and tapped on my name. Just as I suspected. “That’s not my number. When did you change it?”
Justin did not look amused, arching one eyebrow. “I think you know the answer to that.”
I updated my number—off by one numeral—and saved it before handing his phone back. “I’d suggest changing your passcode to start with.”
“I’m gonna do more than that.”
“Good idea. That woman’s moving into stalker territory.”
“Don’t be melodramatic.”
“I’m not. It doesn’t take a psychiatrist to see she’s off her fucking rocker. But you’ve been playing the lottery, my friend. You’re lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“Yeah. How many women have you slept with over the past couple of years? You’re bound to get a loose cannon once in a while. If you need suggestions on how to handle her kind of crazy, I could make a couple of movie suggestions.”
“You’re cute.” Although he’d said it, he didn’t mean it—but it was nice engaging in banter that felt as comfortable as a home-cooked meal. “I didn’t see you after class last night, either.”
“That’s because I didn’t go.” Suddenly, the air felt like it could no longer reach the bottom of my lungs, but I forced the words out of my mouth just the same. “Sarah told us in counseling yesterday that she was sexually abused.”
“As in…molested?”
“Yeah. By her teacher in school last year.”
“Her teacher?”
I slowly nodded my head. “So today we went to Child Protection to make a statement. The things he did to her…”
“Why didn’t she tell you?”
“She said she was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“Of all kinds of things. The guy really did a number on her head—and she feels ashamed, like it’s her fault.”
“Goddamn.”
“I just feel like such a shitty mother. I should have—”
“Randi, you’re not a shitty mother. And it wasn’t like you didn’t know something was going on. You just didn’t know what. It wasn’t like you could pry it out of her with a crowbar. You did the right thing. You got her help. And you’re still doing what you need to do.”
I tried to cling to his words, wanting to believe the truth of them, but I didn’t know I’d ever get to that point. What kind of mother could let that happen on her watch?
But, more importantly, what could I do to fix it?
Chapter Twenty-one
Justin spent the night that night. But, unlike usual, there was no passionate lovemaking. Instead, I took comfort in his strong arms.
But I couldn’t fucking sleep. My brain rolled like tempest-tossed seas and there would be no drifting off.
Sliding out from under Justin’s arm, I got out of bed and made my way through the dark house, not turning on a light until I got to the kitchen. Once there, I got down my secret whiskey bottle and poured myself a small glass just as Justin appeared in the doorway. “Is that such a good idea?”
“I can’t sleep—but I really need to, and this will help.” I downed it in one shot.
Justin placed his hands on my shoulders and rubbed them. “What can I do?”
Resting my head on his chest, I wrapped my arms around him. “Nothing, really. Just being here helps.”
“I can do that.”
The liquid courage was doing its trick, warming my chest before settling in my belly. “There is something you could do for me.”
“Name it.”
“I need a gun.”
He pulled back from me so he could look in my eyes. “A gun? That’s a bad idea, Rascal. Besides, why don’t you just buy one if you need it so bad?”
“I’d rather not have a gun that can be traced.”
“What makes you think I can do that?”
“I might not be the brightest bulb in the pack, but I do know that out of everyone I know and trust, you would be most likely to be able to get it for me.”
“I can’t do that. It’s a shitty idea.”
I wrapped my arms around his torso again. “Never mind. Sorry I asked.” And I tried to take his mind off the subject by taking him back to bed and rocking his world.
Finally, thanks to orgasm and alcohol, I, too, was finally able to fall sleep.
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