Shut Out(60)

“How will you get home?” he asked.

“I’ll call someone.”

“You left your purse inside.” I felt the bag drop to the ground beside me. “You sure you don’t…? I could give you a ride, Lissa. It’s not… We don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

“Thank you,” I said, pulling my purse into my lap. “But I’m fine. I appreciate the offer.”

That was the truth. I did appreciate it. I appreciated that he came after me even considering how I’d talked to him. Randy never would have chased me like that. He would have waited for me to cool down, waited for me to come back and apologize for the things I’d said. He would have just let me go. Hell, I would have just let me go.

Then again, I had left my purse inside. Cash didn’t have much of a choice but to bring it out to me.

I ducked my head and began digging for my cell phone. I could feel Cash still standing behind me, silently watching. “You don’t have to wait,” I told him after I located the phone.

“I know I don’t,” he said. “But I’m not leaving you out here alone in the dark, either.”

I snorted. “We live in Hamilton, Cash. Not Detroit. It’s not like something scary and dangerous is going to happen to me while I’m waiting.”

He didn’t respond.

Part of me wanted him to say, “Fine,” and stomp back inside, out of my hair and my life. But the other part of me—the louder, more emotional part—was thrilled that he cared enough to stay. To watch out for me. I wanted it to mean something.

I hesitated with my finger over the keypad. I could call Chloe. Hell, I could walk to her place from here. But that wouldn’t have been a good idea.

Because she’d been right. So right. She’d told me not to do this, not to play with fire. But I’d argued. I’d said I could handle it even though I obviously could not. I didn’t want to hear her gloat at me. I didn’t want her to know how right she’d been. Not tonight, anyway.

For that matter, I didn’t want to see any of the strike girls. Because if they realized whose house they were picking me up from… I didn’t even want to know what they’d think had been going on.

So I called the only other person I could think of.

“Lissa, I thought you said you didn’t need a ride tonight?”

Logan sounded agitated. On the other end of the line, I could hear the sounds of forks scraping along plates on top of a low hum of conversation.

“Where are you?” I asked. “Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“No,” Logan said, sounding a little annoyed. “I’m on a date. What’s the problem, Lissa? Why did you call?”

“I need a ride.”

“I thought your shift ended, like, two hours ago.”

“It did. I’m not at work. Can you come get me?” I was all too aware of Cash, so close to me, able to hear everything I said. I cleared my throat. “I just need to go home. Please, Logan?”

“Are you okay?” He sounded worried.

“I’m fine. I just need you to come get me. Look, you can bring your date, too. Just get me, drop me off at home, and go back out. I don’t care. I just—”

“No, no,” Logan said quickly. “I’ll send her home and be on my way. Where are you?”

I gave Logan the address, and I could sense the tone of suspicion as he read it back to me. I’m sure he was wondering why I was across town in the trailer park. There was no way I was giving him an answer to that.

I hung up the phone and slid it back into my purse. “My brother is on his way,” I said, as if Cash hadn’t just overheard every word. “So you don’t have to worry anymore. Thanks.”

“Lissa, I—” Cash began, but then he stopped himself. Finally, he said, “Do you really want me to leave you alone?”

No.

“Yes.”

I wasn’t looking at him, so I couldn’t see his reaction to this. But I felt the ache of my own disappointment when he said, “All right.” The porch creaked, and a moment later I heard the screen door close behind me. When I turned around, I saw that he’d left the bigger wooden door open, and I wondered if he was still keeping an eye on me from inside, still watching to make sure I was okay.

I wished he’d stayed.

Something was wrong with me. I should have been happy Cash was gone. I hated him. Hated him for making me feel this way. For turning me into a sex-crazed freak. I couldn’t believe how willing I’d been. How eager I’d been for things to go further. I was ashamed.

I shouldn’t have been; I knew that. If there was one thing this strike had taught me it was that there was no right answer—it was okay to want or not want sex. It wasn’t anything to feel guilty about. I knew, I knew, I knew….

But I guess sometimes knowing doesn’t fix everything. I’d played by the rules of secrecy and shame my entire life. Learning to break them would take time.

It wasn’t fair. Lysistrata never had this problem. In the play, the other women yearned for their husbands, missed sex, but not her. She stayed strong. Why couldn’t I be like that? Why, after a year of being afraid, of avoiding it with Randy, was I suddenly lusting after Cash?

Part of me didn’t even want to know the answers.