Devil You Know(60)

I replace my phone, and shed my clothes to turn in for the night. My eyes linger on his door, and I itch to knock, to see if he’s awake. Chances are he’s fast asleep, so I climb into bed, and snuggle down under the covers instead.

With my door open.





I WAKE to find Jane gone.

To say I didn’t expect it wouldn’t be a complete lie; I just didn’t think she’d have anywhere else to go. I stand in the door of my room, staring into her empty one, and contemplate going back to bed. Why bother getting up at all?

I know we ended things badly, and that she said she needed to leave—but right away? Was it that hard to stay one more day?

Coffee would be the obvious kick-start to this cunt of a day. I drag my sorry ass into the kitchen, and stare blank as a fresh canvas out the window while the kettle does its thing.

Maybe I should have fought harder, pushed her to stay. Would she have reacted well to that? Maybe I should have told her from day one how fucked my life is, and let her decide for herself. Fuck, now I sound like Ty.

I can’t do that: question my decisions so far. If I start believing that the guys have been right all along, and that my choices have been wrong this past decade, then I don’t know what will happen. If I lose faith in myself, I lose faith in life. And where would that leave me?

Doubting my need to be here, just like Jane.

A sickness takes hold in my gut. What if she’s finally called it quits? What if she left to do something stupid, like take her life? Shit. We’ve danced around the subject, but I’ve convinced myself she wouldn’t. Would she? Shit, I don’t know.

How well do you know her, huh?

I don’t dwell on the thought for long, considering I need to figure out where the hell she is—like, now. Where has she gone? We’re miles out from anywhere, and she doesn’t have a vehicle.

She doesn’t, but I do.

My toes collide with the counter in my haste, and I curse as I hobble to the front windows. The pick-up sits in the driveway still, and I’m as relieved to find she didn’t take it as I am distressed that it means she walked.

Giving the coffee a pass for now, I sprint up to my room, and tug on some jeans and a T-shirt before ripping out the door—sans shoes. The tires kick up stones as I peel out of the driveway, and head toward town. If she’s walking, she can’t have gotten far. Plus, she’ll be restricted on where she can go with Rocco—assuming she has Rocco? Like I’m turning back to check now.. I pray that I find her walking along the road, and that my hunch is right. What if she’s hitched a ride? What if some sick fuck has her, and has hurt her?

The thought of losing her permanently, not knowing if she’s safe makes me physically ill. I put the window down to feel the fresh air on my face. Markers fly past in a blur as I head toward the last place I ever wanted her to go—back to town, alone.

I connect my phone to the Bluetooth, and try to call her. The tone rings out with no reply, and I immediately try again.

Answer the phone, Jane. Answer the fucking phone.

Why did she leave? Why did she go?

Why did I shut my fucking door?



I SPOT a tree stump in the shade, and head over with Rocco to take a seat. Traffic passes while we sit and take a breather. I knew the day was going to be a hot one, but when I woke this morning, I had some strange idea that a long walk would be the perfect cleanser before I tried to talk to Malice. Given his door was shut, I thought it pretty clear that he didn’t care what I got up to.

I crack open my bottle of water, and take a small sip before offering some to Rocco. He laps at the stream of water, and stands, ready to go. We walk out to the roadway, and I pull my hair into a lose ponytail to get it off my neck while we carry on our way along the grass verge.

Before long, I recognize the sound of a vehicle slowing, and stop to look.

Great.

A familiar black pick-up pulls to the side of the road. Rocco, being he traitor he is, bounds toward Malice as he climbs out of the driver’s seat. He slows when he sees the same expression I do: frustration, laced with anger.

“What were you thinking?” Malice hollers as he advances.

“Hello, to you too.”

“Don’t get cute, Jane. You could have been picked up by some fucking rapist, or murderer.” He stops before me, the rage pouring off him.

“Tad over-reacting, don’t you think?” I place my hands on my hips, and glare at the bully.

“Hardly, Jane. I wake up, and you’re gone, packed up and left. You should have said something. Why didn’t you answer your damn phone?”

“Because it’s at home, Malice. Did you check to see if I’d taken any of my stuff?”

He rubs a hand across the back of his neck. “Well, no. I woke up, and you weren’t there.”