Chaos and Control(57)

I hook my finger in the collar of my T-shirt and slide it back and forth. Preston’s hands curl into fists that he presses into his thighs. The muscles and tendons of his arms tighten into cords. He shakes his head slightly as Bennie tells him how I escaped. When she finishes, Preston presses each palm into his eyes. His shaking fingers slide through his hair and interlock behind his head as he blows out a breath. He has yet to look at me.

Bennie drops to her knees before me. She’s whispering my nickname and holding my face in her hands.

“The phone call, the postcard, and now this. Wrenie, what does it mean?”

I shake my head because I don’t have an answer for her. Over Bennie’s shoulder I watch Preston retrieve the envelope from the floor and study it. I wait for something, anything from him.

“He’s probably just fucking with me,” I say to Bennie. But my words don’t sound true.

“How dangerous is this guy?” she asks. With a silent look between us, I don’t have to give her an answer. She knows.

I glance to Preston, standing there, still holding the envelope in his hands. His expression is all anger and worry.

“Bennie said he’s from Buffalo,” he says. I’m confused. I nod as he hands over the envelope. “It’s postmarked from Cleveland.”

“What?” I flip it over and read it for myself. “He’s coming,” I say. My voice cracks, and I stand quickly. Bennie scrambles to get up and takes the envelope from me.

“We don’t know that,” she says, studying the postmark.

“Shit,” I say. “Shit!” I run my hands through my hair and try to think. “He’s coming here.”

“You should go to the police, Wren. Make a report. I’m sure they can do something,” Bennie begs.

I ignore her suggestion. What I don’t need is anyone else getting involved in my mess, especially Sawyer. I took care of it before, I’ll take care of it now.

“He’s coming for me.”

“He’s not going to fucking touch you,” Preston says. His voice booms over the soft music in the store.

Bennie and I turn toward him, our faces holding identical expressions of shock. Preston looks furious and a little bit scary.

“What?” I ask. I’m not sure why I ask or what I’m questioning.

Preston steps between us, Bennie totally eclipsed by his large form. We are so close he has to crane his neck to look down at me.

“No one will hurt you, Wren. I swear.”

There is a growling kind of rage in his tone, and his words sound like the truest statement I’ve ever heard. We stand there, exchanging breaths, until the current racing between us threatens to bubble over. I step back so I can clear my head.

“I’ve got to get ready for work,” I say. My eyes stay glued to the floor as I walk past both of them, pushing through the swinging door. I take the stairs two at a time and throw myself into the apartment. I don’t cry until I’m locked in my bathroom and under the spray of the shower. Here, my tears mix with the scalding hot water and disappear down the drain.

…

“Coach, can you hand me two Coronas and a Miller Lite?” I slide my tray onto the bar and wait while he loads it up. “Thanks.”

I drop off the drinks and check on my other tables before heading back to the bar where I find Sawyer parked on a barstool.

“Hey, Wren.”

“Officer Sawyer. What can I get you?” My eyes scan the rest of the bar, searching for his gang of cronies, but I don’t find them. The confession about Dylan sits on the tip of my tongue.

“A Stella and three fingers of Johnnie Walker.”

I busy myself grabbing his drinks and almost drop the bottle of Johnnie when I see Angela Louise emerge from the bathroom and sidle up next to Sawyer. Dylan is forgotten, and I can’t help the smile that pulls across my face. I place the Scotch in front of him and the beer in front of Angela.

“Thanks,” she says. Her eyes shift from me to her lap before grabbing her beer and downing half of it.

“My pleasure.”

“I’m just going to grab a table,” she all but whispers. Angela points over her shoulder and picks up her drink. Gone is the confident, snarky girl I talked to the other night. This one is quiet and unnecessarily nervous.

“Okay,” Sawyer answers. “I’ll be there in a sec.”

“That’ll be $13.” He hands me a twenty and tells me to keep the change.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asks.

I shake my head and wipe down the bar.

“I can’t believe you actually listened to me.”

“Well, it was the nice tits comment that sold me.” He gives me a grin. “No, but really, I figured if anyone would know me well enough to know what I like, it’d be you. I imagine you know me better than most of the assholes I call friends.”

Sawyer slaps the bar and tips his glass at me before joining Angela. I smile at his back. He’s right. I probably do know him better than anyone, but he doesn’t know me anymore, not the girl I am now.

The rest of my shift flies by. It’s last call and I head to the bathroom while Coach closes out tabs. I find Angela in the cramped space, applying a fresh coat of lip gloss.

“Hey,” I greet.

“Hi,” she says, meeting my eyes in the mirror.