Page 35 of Kept By the Loan Shark

Chapter Eleven

Loud knocking at the door to my apartment woke me. I rubbed my face and glanced at the clock by my bed. I had to cover my eye and squint to see the numbers correctly. It had been less than an hour since I had ended my long phone call with my brother. I must have only just fallen asleep.

As the knocking continued, a jolt of fear woke me up completely. What if it was Kyle?

Nervous and ready to call the police, I grabbed the first thing I could find to cover my naked body—my oversized hoodie that now smelled of coffee and cinnamon—and slipped it over my head. I held my phone tightly and slowly got out of bed, careful not to stand too quickly and fall. The wave of dizziness I experienced when standing upright faded faster than usual, and I took steady steps toward the front door, glad I had left the lights on when I fell asleep.

I was too short to see through the peep hole and didn’t trust my balance for a stool or chair. Instead, I kept the chain in place, unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door only a few inches.

Hagen loomed in my doorway, his left hand braced on the frame and his right balled up to knock again. Seemingly startled by the door opening, he went from an expression of worry to one of utter relief. “Cassie.”

Shocked at Hagen’s unexpected appearance on my doorstep, I tried to ignore the frisson of excited heat that raced through my body at the sound of my name falling from his lips. I stared up at him through the tiny space between the door and the frame. He looked like hell. His eyes were tired, and the lines around his face that crinkled when he smiled were deeper. His hair was a mess, as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and his usually immaculate clothing was wrinkled. “Hagen.”

“Can I come inside? Please,” he asked in a desperate way I had never heard him use.

After a moment’s hesitation, I closed the door long enough to remove the chain. I opened it again, stepping aside so he could come into my apartment. Closing it, I leaned back against the door and gazed up at him. He made my cramped studio look even smaller. His head was inches from the ceiling fan, and I was glad I hadn’t turned it on earlier. His arms were long enough that he could probably touch the far wall of the living area and the kitchen counter at the same time.

His gaze roamed over me, starting at my head and moving all the way down to my bare feet. I felt suddenly self-conscious in just my hoodie with nothing at all on underneath. Tugging at the hem of my hoodie, I asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m doing what I should have done weeks ago when I got that fucking message,” he said roughly. I started to ask him what message he was talking about, but he gestured to the loveseat. “Can we sit? Talk?”

I nodded and skirted around him, not trusting myself to touch him again without breaking into a million little pieces. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Ronnie,” Hagen explained, taking the spot next me on the small couch. “He called and told me about what happened in the park tonight.” Hagen wiped his hand down his face and sighed. “He made me realize what a colossal asshole and coward I’ve been.”

I wasn’t going to disagree with that. “Ronnie shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m not your problem anymore.”

Hagen grasped my hands between his and commanded my gaze. “You were never a problem to me.”

The dam holding back my tears and emotions burst as the warmth of his hands flowed into mine. “You left me,” I wept, unable to stop myself from showing how vulnerable and hurt I was. “You left me at the hospital, and you never came back.”

“Cassie, baby,” Hagen touched my face, “you told me not to come back. You told me it was over. You told me you never wanted to see me again, that you would never forgive me for what I took from you.”

Still crying, I looked at him in confusion. “What are you talking about? I never sent you any messages like that.” Tugging one of my hands free, I used the cuff of my hoodie to wipe my eyes. “You didn’t answer any of my messages either.”

“Cassie, I never got any other messages from you. Not after the break-up text,” Hagen added. “You were very clear about how you felt and what you wanted done. You told me to send all your things to Kyle’s place and—”

“John,” I interrupted forcefully, “I never texted that to you. I couldn’t have.”

He shifted in his seat and retrieved his cell phone, unlocking the screen and opening his text messages. “Look.”

I took the phone from him and hesitated before covering my left eye so I could focus on the screen.

“Cassie, is your eye still bothering you?” he asked softly and with worry.

I couldn’t bear to look at him, to see the pity reflected in his face. Instead, I tried to make light of it. “Someone told me that I’d be cute in glasses.”

“I’m pretty sure that someone said adorable,” he corrected with a faint smile in his voice. “Is it…will it get better?”

“Maybe,” I said, keeping my focus on the message in front of me. “I’ll probably end up in special glasses at my next ophthalmology appointment. If that doesn’t work, she wants to try surgery.”

Hagen gripped my hand even tighter, and I could tell he was fighting the urge to haul me onto his lap. He kept that urge at bay and waited for me to read the text I had supposedly sent. It was a huge block of text filled with everything he had described—a definite end to our relationship and ugly, ugly words about how I would never forgive him.

“I didn’t write this, Hagen.” I handed the phone back to him. “I couldn’t have. I can barely handle looking at any sort of screen right now. Back then? In the hospital?” I shook my head. “No way. Other than a short text I sent the morning after our fight, Taylor was the only one sending and answering messages on my phone. She wouldn’t have sent that to you.”

Wanting to prove it, I picked up my phone and opened my texts. “Here. Look for yourself.”

Hagen did. “I never got these.” He held his phone next to mine and compared the screens. Frowning, he said, “It’s like we were having two different conversations. I wonder…”

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