Page 87 of XO

Surely, there’s no connection.

Surely, I’m just overtired and riled up, and now my mind is creating its own cruel stories like I need more to add to my collection.

Surely…

~

Rosie quietly sings to herself as she cruises the aisles with her shopping cart. We’ve stopped almost an hour and a half out of town for supplies, and if it had been any other time and a different circumstance, I’d be enjoying it as much as Rosie. But that’s simply not case.

The shopping clerk eyes us with curiosity. Two teens, disheveled from the night before wearing formal attire, shopping for an impromptu road trip. I don’t say anything to Rosie. I don’t stop her from loading the cart to the brim with things we don’t need. I don’t tell her to put back on the shelf the mini gas stove because although she’s not the type of girl who can easily divert off a plan, she seems to be taking my irrational behavior and bizarre suggestions all in her stride.

And she looks fucking happy.

And I can’t break her heart.

So, she can keep the fucking mini gas stove.

My cell chimes as she’s looking at sundresses. Ugly ones the store has to offer, but she’ll make them beautiful.

It’s Mr. Reign.

My stomach somersaults, all the thoughts from earlier sneaking up on me like a tidal wave. I click on his name and almost vomit, the words punching me in the gut.

Mr. Reign:Tell my Rosie I’ll always love her.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you fucking dare,” I mutter while stalking out to the front of the store. Trembling, I dial his number within moments after receiving his message yet, there’s no answer. It ends in voicemail, so I hang up and try again. Nothing.

“You fucker. Answer the phone. Don’t you fucking dare do this.”

I’m aware there are tears slipping down my cheeks as I pace in front of the door, but I simply need him to pick up the phone. I try one more time before voicemail.

Yer Blues…

Sweat drips pools in my palms, my mind sending me into a tailspin. I dial Mrs. Reign because if she’s home, she can tell me if he’s okay. No answer. Probably still fucking my father. I ring Mom, but her cell is always on silent, and as I expected, she doesn’t answer. I dial 911, and when they answer, I explain the situation.

“I’m sorry, sir, all units are busy at the moment, but I’ll place your call as priority.”

After giving the operator Rosie’s address, I swallow the bile creeping its way up.

Why the fuck is this happening?

You should never have gone to Mr. Reign, the voice inside my head taunts.This is your fault.

“This is fucking bullshit,” I rage into my phone to absolutely no one. Swallowing the lump in my throat and my pride, I dial Dad. But just like the person he’s fucking, he too is busy.

“You fucking assholes!”

In that moment, I turn to see Rosie staring wide-eyed, not understanding the situation I’m trying to save her from, but a situation I’ve most likely unwittingly created. From inside the store, she’s still, watching, waiting for an answer she’s scared to know.

I don’t have time to weigh the decision. It’s going to end badly no matter what I choose to do, but if I can prevent the worst-case scenario from happening…

‘I’m sorry,’ I mouth knowing she can’t hear me.

‘Jacob?’ she calls, running through the store.

But it’s too late because within moments, I’m tearing out of the parking lot. If it turns out to be a false alarm, she can unleash her fury.

And as much as I hope that’s the case, the universe has stuck up its middle finger and given us a bigfuck you.

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