Page 106 of Take Her

45

LIA

“I don’t think the cranes worked, Berry.”

“I don’t either.” Mason was so painfully thin now, so different from the man I’d fallen in love with. I didn’t dare crawl into bed with him anymore.

Every time I left his room, I wanted to go outside and scream.

“Whatever happens,” he said, so softly I had to lean over to hear him. “I just want you to be happy. Same for Caleb.”

“Stop,” I said, shaking my head, tears streaking down my face. “Just stop being so nice about everything, Mason! Just—fucking be a dick! Be selfish for once!”

He made a frightening, repetitive sound, and it took me a moment to realize he was laughing.

“Don’t die while I’m pissed at you,” I complained.

“Berry, I’m not going to go any other way.”

I dove my face into his nearest hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Berry.”

And it was the last thing he said.

—Sarah, from One of a Thousand Wishes by A. R. McGeorge

“Why’d you let him do that to you?” Junior asked, after his third drink in, when he’d brought up the topic of me cleaning toilets.

I could hardly tell Junior the truth. “I wanted to start from the ground up.”

“Or—and hear me out—Rhaim’s a controlling asshole.”

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” I said, and Junior laughed.

It didn’t bother me, because Rhaim himself would be the first to agree. I really hoped he was okay, off doing whatever was more important than me.

As long as it wasn’t a whoever type of situation, I was all right.

I’d put my phone on silent because I didn’t want to take a call from Rhaim in front of Junior, but now, not knowing whether or not he’d reached out in the intervening time was killing me.

“Speaking of toilets—where’s the bathroom?” I asked, looking around the nearby crowd.

“In the back,” Junior said while pointing a finger. “Check the tile while you’re there—it’s imported from Egypt. Hand painted.”

“I will,” I promised, then got up to start slinking through the crowd.

There was a line for the women’s bathroom because of course there was, so I put my back against the wall and pulled out my phone while I waited.

There was nothing from Rhaim.

Would he: prefer I suffer in silent fear, letting worrying about him eat me up inside? Or would he rather I just text him for a little bit of reassurance, easily provided, assuming he had the time?

I opted for the latter.

You okay?

I texted, and tried to temper my expectations of getting anything in return, as I finally made it inside a stall.

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