Baby, going to have to call you later. Too noisy here for me to hear you.
He read the text a few times, making sure it made sense, and then hit send. He shoved his cell in his front pocket and laid back. He’d just rest a minute until they were done, then find someone to take his ass home. But as his eyes closed, the heaviness slammed into him, and he felt himself drift off. No, he couldn’t pass out here, and not now. He needed to get back to his motel room.
The sound of a woman giggling had him prying his eyes open and forcing himself to sit back up. The blonde from downstairs with the too tight shirt was leaning against the doorframe. She came inside, but Rory tried to stand, not about to be trapped in here with her. But he was so drunk that when he went to stand the room tipped and spun and he had to sit back down.
“Wow, you’re really trashed,” she said in this singsong voice. She didn’t sound or look drunk, and he knew that this situation could go very wrong really quickly.
“Yeah, and when I said not interested, I meant it.”
She came closer and sat on the edge of the bed. His cell vibrated, and thinking it was a text from Lena, he grabbed it. But his hand and eye coordination was shot from the drinking, and the fucking thing fell to the floor. The bitch grabbed it before he could react, had the thing answered and started talking.
“Hello?” she said in a soft, very erotic voice, one that pissed him the hell off.
“Give me my fucking phone,” Rory slurred out, his head pounding and the room spinning. He hadn’t drunk this much in months, and it clearly wasn’t sitting well with him.
“Who is this?” the blond bitch said.
He went to snatch the phone, feeling his anger rise, but she darted off the bed, her grin wide, and one he wanted to smack off, if he wasn’t a good guy and didn’t fuck with girls.
“Lena?” the blond bitch said. “Lena, he’s a little busy right now—”
“You fucking cunt,” Rory said and grabbed the phone away, his anger overriding his intoxication. “Get the hell out.”
The blonde’s eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something, but clearly thought better and turned to leave.
Rory was breathing hard, his blood pumping through his veins, and the room still slightly spinning. He put the phone to his ear, closed his eyes, and sat back on the bed.
“Lena, baby …” He didn’t even know what to say. “She’s some damn bitch who came into the room I’m at and was starting shit. Nothing happened.” He could hear her breathing, but for several seconds, she didn’t say anything. “Lena baby?”
“Are you at a party? Drunk, too?”
He exhaled and stared at the ceiling. “Yeah, a bunch of the guys from the jobsite got together for the night.”
She didn’t say anything after that.
“Baby, nothing happened. You know that right, trust me?”
It took her several seconds to answer. “Rory, I trust you, no matter what, but I really needed to talk to you tonight, and I can tell you’re drunk.” She exhaled. “Right now isn’t a good time for this conversation.”
She sounded like she was crying, and that had him sobering.
“Baby, are you upset because of that fucking bitch?” She didn’t answer right away, but he could hear her crying still. “Fuck, please don’t cry.” He hated that he was so drunk, that he couldn’t be there for her.
“Listen, I thought I could do this on the phone, thought we could talk, but I can’t right now.” She sniffed. “Call me tomorrow when you’re sober, Rory. I love you.” And then she hung up, and he was tempted to crush his phone. He shoved his cell back in his pocket, rested his head in his hands, and cursed again. Whatever she wanted to talk about, whatever was making her cry, he had a feeling it didn’t have to do with this bullshit that just happened.
12
Lena woke at first because of a dream, one where she’d been running and running, but stayed in the same place. As she stared at the ceiling in her bedroom, sweat covering her forehead and chest, having her shirt damp, she realized it wasn’t actually the dream that had woken her up, but the pain in her abdomen.
It wasn’t unbearable, but the longer she lay there, the minutes passing, the worse it became. Covering her belly with her hand, she closed her eyes and breathed out. They were horrible cramps, and as another wave slammed into her, she couldn’t help but think of Rory.
The conversation just a few hours ago played through her head, that little bitch’s voice on the end of his cell making her angry, sad, and ready to break something.