Page 122 of Unhinged

Not a bit.

What I feel for Simone is crystal clear to me now, and it scares me more than Betsy’s office buzzing.

It first rooted when I watched Simone sleep in Baltimore. Because of that, I couldn’t even take Simone to a casual dinner, as her mother had suggested during Wilder and Hadley’s fuckfest weekend at a hotel. Yeah, Hadley getting married upset me, but I also fought what I felt for another woman.

It grew when we teased each other on the softball field, at the hospital, Brandon’s party, and at the gym when I helped her to snag Officer Dickwad, and it’s why I didn’t think he was good enough for her.

It sprouted even more when she defended me to Morgan at the diner and the gym.

It spread like wildfire when she helped me with Birdy.

It bloomed when I realized it the night at Jake’s when I first kissed her but still believed Simone only wanted me for a rebound from Tesco.

Now that I cultivated it, I don’t know what to do.

Since I trusted Hadley, she became my safe space and security blanket. Whenever I got closer to Simone, the night where my friends and my high school crush pinned me to the couch and tore down my sweatpants will forever remind me that I’m a damn punchline. I feared Simone would mock me for liking her, so I argued with her. It kept me connected to Simone while keeping her at a distance. I pursued Hadley more so because it was safer for me. But the more time I spent with Simone, the more I let down my guard. I was so damn conflicted because I had only wanted Hadley for so fucking long.

After the fight with Simone, I went to Hadley’s because, like how Hadley turned to me after Wilder left, I sought her as a rebound to numb the goddamn pain. Simone Garrison created chaos in my life when she broke my trust and trashed my heart. But I was so wrong about all of it.

Simone and I turn in our clubs and balls and then grab our things. When we go outside in the chilly night air, the truth I’ve denied for so long rushes through me, and it intensifies like a lightning bolt to an umbrella. For the things Cynthia spouted about Simone, she was a second away from me beating the shit out of her with my putter before handing it to her schlub husband, Ted. I know he wants to finish the job since he’s forever trapped in a disastrous and drunken one-night stand that broke up his first marriage. He only married Cynthia to justify the moronic dick slip.

Holding Simone’s hand, we walk to my truck. Lost in thought, it jars me somewhat when she asks, “What’s the matter? Your hand is shaking.”

I shrug, but my mind is raging rapids, and I avoid looking at Simone so she won’t see it. “I can’t stand that cuntcake. I should’ve stuffed her into the windmill.”

“Christ, Greg.”

“Cynthia has been at the office since forever. She tried to flirt with me when my mother brought me to the office. I was in fucking middle school.” Simone sucks in a loud breath and squeezes my hand. “She made comments about how lucky I’d make a girl someday or that she’d wait for me to be legal. After I turned eighteen, she commented about my ass, shoe size and wondered what was under my hood. She often suggested we go on a date so she could show me a good time. I hate her. With that and after the basement incident, I didn’t visit my mom’s office as much.”

“I want to kill that ugly bitch for even looking at you.” My heart thunders in my ears, and my breaths shallow. No one has ever stood up for me like Simone. “And she says horrible things about me.”

I stop walking, and when I look at Simone, the festering anger is dark and fast. “What does she say?”

“Nothing to my face but loud enough for me to hear, like calling me a tramp because I was nice to Elijah.” Simone’s eyes are fierce with the courage she inherited, unlike the puzzle piece to a deadly disease I did. Still, I want to protect her like she does me.

I rub my jaw, debating whether to deal with Cynthia now or later. I glance toward the building, gritting my teeth, but Simone’s hand goes to my jaw, steering me back to her. Still holding my hand with her other, she tugs me toward the truck and mutters, “It’s not like I’ll have to put up with her for much longer.” Well, shit. I guess that’s something we should talk about.

We stop at the passenger door of my truck, and I say, “I will deal with her.”

“Why didn’t you tell your mom?”

“I didn’t tell her a lot of things. I guess I didn’t want to be a pussy.”

Simone’s blue eyes are sharp glass. “Gregory Richard Rodwell, you’re never a pussy. You are the bravest man I’ve ever met. You amaze me.”

I swallow, and my voice is hoarse. “I don’t see that.”

“That’s why I’m here. To make sure you do.” Her smile is sweet and genuine. She puts her purse on the seat and says, “I guess our date is almost over. I’m glad you asked me out.”

I lick my lip as I watch cars leaving the parking lot. “Do you think we can do it again?”

“You already have a date Saturday night.”

“She texted me from her vacation to say she got us tickets to some music event. It’d better not be like the corn shucker fest Rhonda took me to.” I laugh, but then Simone’s face falls, and it’s the saddest thing I’ve seen.

“Oh.”

“She mostly has sent me the beach, sunset, and drink pictures. That’s all.”

---