Breaking Even(84)
I made her cry. Her ex-husband never made her cry, but I did.
“You shouldn’t have involved her,” I snap.
“We didn’t. She came because she cared. She kissed you because you refused to be still any other way, and she stayed on top of you because you wouldn’t let her go. Pretty sure any other girl would have prayed you bled to death.”
She should have let me bleed and stayed away.
“I need to go apologize to her.”
He props up as I try to stand straight, but things are still a little warped, and it feels like I’m suffering the after effects of a bad carnival ride.
“For what? For breaking her heart or for being a drunken ass?”
I don’t even want to think about the shit I said to her the other day. It was too harsh, too stupid, and too damn cruel. She didn’t deserve anything that came out of my mouth.
“The list is too long to detail. I’ll be back,” I mumble, stumbling toward the door.
“Tell her I said thanks. We couldn’t have handled you without her help last night.”
That just turns the knife in my heart a little more. I can’t believe she came over here after what I did.
Not bothering to put on a shirt or even shower, I head across the street. I’m barefoot and still wearing my blood-splattered jeans from last night, but she’s waited long enough for an apology. Before I even reach the door, Maggie is swinging it open, and she looks pissed—nuclear warning pissed.
“What?” she barks.
She’s definitely not on my side anymore. I don’t blame her. I’m not on my side either.
“I just want to apologize for... well, everything. Can I please come in and talk to her?”
She blocks the doorway with her small body when I try to come in, so I take a step back.
“She’s not here. She had to go to work.”
I glance over my shoulder, wondering if my mind is playing tricks on me. Her Camry is still parked.
“Her car is here,” I say, turning back around just as the door slams in my face.
That went worse than I thought, and I didn’t even get to talk to Brin. I knock, and then curse when I use my injured hand. The throbbing intensifies, punishing me for forgetting about it. Swapping to my left hand, I knock again.
“Go away, Rye. She’s not here. She took a cab because she didn’t have any gas in her car and she was running late,” Maggie says through the door.
No gas in her car? I can at least take care of that.
Shit. When did my life get so messed up?
***
BRIN
“Is he gone?” I whisper from my doorway, wiping away the streaks of fallen tears.
Maggie stares out the window for a moment, and then she sighs. “Finally. Yeah. He’s walking across the street.” She turns to me with the most apologetic eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Are you okay?” She cringes and quickly adds, “Don’t answer that. It was a stupid question. Of course you’re not okay.”
I sigh while coming to drop down to the sofa.
“At least the museum had to stay closed for a few extra days. The renovations hit a snag, and the building can’t be reopened until next week now.”
She hands me a fresh box of tissues, and I smile up at her very gratefully. “Thank God I have you,” I murmur, and she smiles as she comes to sit down beside me and wraps me up in the hug I need.
“You’ve been with me through some of the worst breakups ever. I can be here for you the one time you actually need a shoulder to cry on.”
She looks toward the window, and then her eyebrows scrunch. “Is he pouring gas into your car?” she asks, and I look out to see the same thing.
Shit. I have a full tank.
He figures that out when the gas starts pouring out of the jug and onto the ground instead of going into the car, and his eyes move to the house again. Through the thin curtains, we can see him, but I don’t think he can see us.
He puts the jug down, and starts walking this way, and I run to my room like the coward I am. “Don’t open the door this time,” I whisper, and Maggie walks over to the window just as the banging on the door starts.
“What now?” she asks, playing dumb.
“Her tank is full. Let me talk to her. I know she’s in there. I just saw her running out of the living room.”
Crap. So much for him not seeing through the useless curtains. We need blinds.
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
“I have a key,” he warns, and my stomach knots up.
Maggie flips the newly-installed chain lock into position, and I breathe out in relief.
“Go home. She doesn’t want to talk to you. I think you’ve said enough. Don’t you?”
I sink to the floor, still trying to catch my breath, when suddenly there’s a loud beating on my window. I jump and scream when I see Rye’s brown eyes staring expectantly.