Birthday Girl(95)

And cleaned the remnants of the A&W cup out of the washing machine from when I dumped the ice cream float in it last night. Thank God he didn’t find out about that or he’d change his opinion on whether or not I’m an adult.

After tidying up the house, I really didn’t want to wash off his smell, but I desperately needed a shower. I cleaned myself up, and then I called Cam and borrowed her car to go get my paycheck at Grounders and run a few errands. I got sideways looks from my sister and Shel, both probably wondering why I’m practically fucking skipping around everywhere, but I didn’t care.

Because in a few hours, his eyes were going to be on me again, and I really love when his eyes are on me. Maybe we’d go swimming tonight or throw some pillows and blankets into the back of the truck to go make-out somewhere. Or maybe I’d pick a fight, so he’d bend me over the kitchen table for another spanking.

Stupid. Fantasies and expectations that never measure up in reality. I should know better. Here I am, sitting here waiting for whenever he happens to show up, ready to be at his beck and call.

After a while, I pick up my phone again, checking to see if I have any messages.

Still nothing.

I look at the time, and it’s nearly seven now. Two hours late.

He’d know I was expecting him. If he didn’t call, then maybe something did happen.

I dial him, about to feel either really pathetic if he’s not sitting in the ER right now or really bad about all my doubts if he is.

The call goes to voicemail, though, and I hang up, hesitating only a moment before I get up and walk to the refrigerator, drawing my finger down Pike’s list of contacts. I see Dutch’s number and dial it, thinking of something to say that won’t make me seem desperate.

The line rings three times before he answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dutch,” I say quickly, adding some pep to my voice. “It’s Jordan. Sorry to bother you. I know Pike doesn’t always keep his phone on him and thought you would. I’m about to leave for work, and I lost my key to the house.” I lick my dry lips, my heart hammering. “Are you all about done at the site? I didn’t know when Pike would be home and didn’t want to just leave the door unlocked.”

“Oh, we closed up shop two hours ago, honey,” he tells me. “I’m home already, and he went with the guys for a beer at Poor Red’s. I’m sure if you call him he’ll run home and lock up.”

My throat constricts and tears burn.

He went out.

I force a tight smile, hoping it disguises the anger inside “Yeah. Will do. Thank you.”

I hang up and close my eyes, forcing myself to calm down. He went out. Without even letting me know. He just left me sitting here.

I blink away the burn, refusing to be hurt. I cared about him, and I fucked him. But I don’t love him, and he clearly doesn’t give a shit. He got what he wanted.

All that possessiveness and a need to watch over me and protect me. It was just to keep me here, so he could get in my pants. He resisted me, because he felt bad, but he was simply biding time to talk himself into it. Taking me to bed was always the plan. Now that he’s had his piece of ass, the monkey is off his back, and hey, maybe April is at Red’s tonight, too, and they can pick up where they left off.

I growl, kicking a table chair.

This doesn’t happen to me. Not anymore. It ends now.

I hold up my phone and dial Cam, remembering what tonight is.

“Hey, what’s up?” she answers.

I curl my lips, feeling suddenly bold. “I feel like I want to see my first wet T-shirt contest.”

She gasps and then squeals into the phone. “Yes!”





Pike



I pull into my driveway a little after nine and look up at the house. She won’t be asleep yet, and I’m in no better condition to deal with her than I was four hours ago when work ended. But I can’t put it off anymore. We need to talk.

I see a small light on in the kitchen that I know is probably the one over the stove, but the rest of the house is dark, and part of me hopes she actually is in bed, because I don’t want to do this.

Jumping down out of my truck, I slam the door and walk to the house. Slipping the key into the deadbolt, I twist it and open the door, stepping into the dark living room. There’s no light streaming in from anywhere, and I don’t hear her music playing. I know my standing her up didn’t go by unnoticed. She called a couple hours ago but didn’t leave a message. She’s undoubtedly angry.

I take in a breath and instantly smell warm cheese and spicy meat. Pizza.

Walking into the kitchen, I pull open the oven and find the large box from Joe’s and take it out, setting it on top of the stove.

I flip the lid. Every piece still sits in the box, untouched.

My stomach knots, and I feel like shit. Of course, I knew she would have something for dinner. Heading back into the living room, I pick up the remote and turn on the TV, seeing the dark glass come to life and the cover of The Lost Boys (1987) appear on the Netflix screen. She had everything ready for a night in.

Trailing upstairs, I stop at her bedroom door, not seeing a light from inside streaming underneath.

I knock twice and wait. When there’s no answer, I twist the handle and open the door.

Through the moonlight coming in through her window, I see her bed still made and an empty room.