Her jaw pops, and her chest swells with a rapid intake of breath. “What? Oh my gosh. No. No!”
“It’s okay. You can tell me. I can help you.”
Her eyes flash wide, and she jerks back like she’s been smacked. “Help me?”
Those breathtakingly sad blue eyes turn molten. With a slight shake of her head, she stiffens and pulls out of my arms entirely.
Her cheek rolls as she runs the pointed tip of her tongue along the inside of her mouth.“Of course you can. Why wouldn’t you want to help? After all, I’m your little fixer-upper. You are unbelievable.”
Jumping out of bed, she grabs the sheet and wraps it around herself like a towel, tucking the ends under her arms.
Strike that. She didn’t grab the sheet. She yanked it like it was a tablecloth and she was a magician doing the table setting trick. But an angry version.
I’m collecting quite a large pile of fuckups tonight. It’s a new record.
Sitting up, I fling my open hands to the sides. “Lettie, what’s wrong? What did I say?”
She holds the sheet up with one hand. With the other, she points her index finger at me. “Don’t you dare play th—” Her angry words are cut off by the ringing of her cell.
Whipping her neck around, she looks for the phone. By the third ring, she finds her purse on the floor where I flung it when I carried her in here. As soon as she retrieves the phone, she groans as she reads the screen. “Son of a bitch.”
I get out of bed, ready to respond to... something. I’m not sure what.
She answers the phone in a huff, “Hey, sorry I didn’t text you when I got home. I’m okay. But hang on a second. I need to put out the trash.”
The way she glares at me makes my chest cave in. With the phone pressed to her bare chest, just above the sheet line, she snaps, “That would be you. Get out.”
This time, I’m the one who flinches like I’ve taken a right cross to my chin. “What? I’m trash?”
She flashes a mocking grin. “Oh you don’t miss a thing, do you?” Tipping her head toward the door, she lets anger replace her look of ridicule. “I’d like you to leave. Now.”
“Hold on. I don’t understand what happened.”
“I’m noticing that’s a theme with you.”
“Lettie,” I start, but I don’t have anything to add, so the sentence shrivels up. A lot like my heart does as she rejects me with each rage-filled breath she heaves.
Throwing me out like the trash.
You’ll never find someone who can put up with you, boy.
My legs drudge me toward the door on autopilot while my head swirls in a pained fog.
I can’t meet her eyes, so I don’t.
As I shuffle away from her, I keep my vision trained on my feet, but I don’t see them. I can’t see anything. It’s all black.
When I get to the door, I attempt an apology, even if I don’t know what I did wrong.
Even if it’s just me who is wrong.
“I’m sorry, Lettie. I didn’t mean to upset you. I only want to keep you safe and make you happy. But I guess I’m not capable of doing that.”
“James, wait,” she whispers, sounding less angry.
I’m not brave enough to face her, so I keep my eyes on my hand where it hovers over the door handle.I want to leave, but I’m too weak to deny her.
“What, Violet?”