I type in her number and am about to hit the green button when the phone is ripped from my hand.
Dylan.
"What are you doing?"
"I . . . I just wanted to call Sara. I haven't talked to her in a while." My voice is quiet. I feel like everything I say or do lately is wrong, and I really don't want to make him mad today.
"You know she doesn't like me. All she's going to do is fill your head with lies about me." He looks down at the phone and then back at me. "I don't want you talking to her. I love you, that should be enough. You don't need anyone else."
"But, she's my sister. I can't just stop talking to her." Tears well in my eyes.
He throws the phone and it shatters against the wall. "You can and you will. All those people, your whole family, they're all fucking trouble makers. Don't try and go behind my back, either. It'd be a shame if something happened to one of them." He smiles at me and I watch his eyes turn black.
They do this often. Way back in high school, I'd fallen in love with those eyes. Eyes that were as deep as swimming pools on hot summer days. But everything is different now. Dylan is no longer the athletic, handsome man he was back then. With dark shadows under his eyes, his hollow cheeks, and the way he moves around the house as if he were boneless, slithering from room to room like a snake, always trying to catch me doing something wrong. He was different, but so was I. In high school I made him happy. I did things right. He would kiss me and tell me I was beautiful. Pull me close and hug me. I can't remember the last time he touched me without anger.
"Don't you have some cleaning to do?" His eyebrow arches.
I don't respond trying to process exactly what just happened. He doesn't want me talking to my family, at all? How can I do that?
"I asked you a goddamn question!" His hand grips my upper arm and I wince as his nails dig into my skin. He shoves me onto the floor and I slide into the end table knocking it, sending everything on it crashing to the floor, the vase and picture shattering, glass seeming to fall in slow motion until the carpet is nothing but a sea of glittering fragments.
Dylan backs away, grabbing his jacket from the back of the door. "Another fucking mess to clean up. Have it done before I get back."
The next day, I'm vacuuming around by the console table when I see it.
The cord of the phone.
The wire cut in half.
I jolt up in bed covered in sweat, my chest heaving up and down. It takes a minute for me to realize I'm in Cutter's room at the clubhouse.
Safe.
The clock on the wall shows eight o'clock so I decide to grab a shower. I'm supposed to head to the club with Tracie today around ten which leaves me loads of time, but I'm trembling so badly at the thought, I want to allow myself enough time to calm down.
Or at least fake calm.
I stand under the water, hoping it'll wash away the dream. When Cutter gets back, I want to ask him to help me find my family. There's very little information we can go off, though. I wouldn't even know where to start. I don't remember their phone number. I'm not even sure if they live in the same house. Sara has probably moved out and started her own life by now.
As crazy as it is, I've missed having Cutter around last night. In the little time I've known him he's become a rock-someone I can lean on. Someone who supports me, without making me feel like I owe him something. He's made me feel so safe with him. Him being away just doesn't feel . . . right.
During the night I woke up and moved across the bed to find him. Of course, he wasn't there. I called him before I went to bed, and told him about Tracie's determination to get me back to the club. The line went silent for a while and I thought he might shut the idea down, but he seemed to take a deep breath and regroup, assuring me that he would make sure there would be people there, watching out for signs of any trouble. He also said he wanted to talk to me when he gets back this afternoon.
When he said that a pit formed in my stomach, and I immediately thought of all the bad things that he could need to talk to me about. The possibility that being away from me made him miss the freedom having me around took from him? Maybe he met someone who he didn't need to be put back together? So many things plagued me, and I tossed and turned until I fell asleep from the exhaustion of worrying.
I walk out of the small bathroom to find Tracie standing in my room.
"Hey, girl. Thought I'd stop by and give you a little confidence boost with an old lady makeover." She smiles at me. A makeover? She's holding clothes in her hand and my eyes travel to where I already have mine laid out on the dresser.