I just need a place to stay, one I can afford. Share an apartment. Cassie. She said she may have something for me.
I can do this.
“Let me see your arm.” He takes my hand, but I don’t let him push up the sleeve.
“I said I’m okay, Joey. I really am.” I hold his gaze until he drops my hand.
“If you’d stayed with Blake,” he mutters, “he’d look after you. Dad and Mom trust him and wouldn’t worry so much about you, and this wouldn’t have happened.”
“Dad and Mom should trust me, not a stranger.”
“He’s your boyfriend, not some stranger.”
“Dammit, Joey, he’s not my boyfriend anymore! And I don’t need him to take care of me.”
I turn away from him and do my best to swallow my disappointment. Bitterness fills me. Even Joel doesn’t trust me. Despite his help this evening, he doesn’t think I can take care of myself, much less others. Why? What did I ever do to make them all think I can’t cut it?
“Get some sleep,” Joel says, and the sofa springs creak as he gets up. “We’ll talk in the morning.”
It seems to me there’s nothing more to talk about. And it doesn’t matter. I’m here. I’ll make this work. I have to.
But in the morning Joel leaves before I wake up. A message on my phone informs me he’s got practice on campus and won’t be back all day.
So much for talking. Though I’m secretly glad to avoid more arguments and fighting. Glad for the quiet.
I take out my phone. I want to talk to Micah, tell him what happened. He hasn’t texted me or tried to call me since I left his apartment last night. Telling myself it’s nothing, that of course he doesn’t have to text me all night, even after the things we talked about, I sigh and put the phone down.
Not feeling like talking much, either, at this moment. I just wish… How selfish it is of me to wish he’d called me? His voice would make everything better, but I have no right to expect anything from him. He’s not my boyfriend. We’re not an item.
Are we?
We barely know each other, and after pushing him to open up yesterday… Maybe I should mark the day in my calendar: the day I got over my fear of Blake, my fear of leaving home, and pushed Micah over the edge.
Damn.
Joel’s apartment is downtown, so I have more time than usual to get ready. I keep expecting the mysterious Jethro to walk into the living room or the kitchen, but he doesn’t. Big surprise. I’m not sure I even know what he looks like.
I pull my hair back into my customary ponytail, zip up my jacket and grab my bag. I look at myself in the bathroom mirror and tuck a stray strand behind my ear. The memory of last night slams back into me, and I wince. I kinda hate my family right now.
Then I think of Micah who never really had one and feel bad. At least I know my family cares for me, even if they don’t trust me. They’re overwhelming, but they’ve looked after me all my life.
Deciding I’ll call Mom later on and ask how she is, I walk out and head to work.
The guy I’ve caught watching me from across the street is there again, smoking a cigarette. His dark eyes follow me as I hurry to enter the sports store. What’s his problem? It’s not Blake, but could Blake have sent someone to keep tabs on me?
Ice coats my insides at the thought, but then Cassie intercepts me and pulls me to the back of the store to ask how it all went. I take a deep breath and tell her everything—about Micah and Seth, the fight with my parents, the fight with Joel. It feels good to get it off my chest, and she keeps telling me it will be all right, and it will all work out.
She’s sweet, but a part of me is sad it’s not Micah asking me, concerned about me.
He’ll text, I tell myself. Micah cares for me. He isn’t a one-stand kind of guy. We shared more than just sex. Mind-blowing sex. Still. He cares.
Right?
Work takes my mind off things for a while. Around midday I check my phone and still nothing. Disappointment threatens to drown me. Bad things happen in clusters, and this day is going to hell.
But I refuse to let it end like this. I need to act, work for my happiness. With trembling fingers I text Micah.
‘Miss you.’ There. Short and sweet.