Page 36 of The Significance of Moving On

“Why didn’t you answer?” I ask her, using a bit more force than I mean to.

“I went to check the house.”

“Without your phone? What if you’d needed to call 911? Wait, why are you whispering? Shit. Tal, is someone in the house?”

“No. I don’t know why I’m whispering. All the windows and doors are still locked.”

“Maybe you should call—”

“I’m not calling the police.” She speaks over me.

My hand drops to my hip and I look up to the starless sky while I strive for patience. “Why? It’s their job.”

“Because I’d feel stupid.”

“Christ,” I bite out, not managing to find that patience. “Tal, it would take me over two hours to get to you.”

“I’m fine. Sorry I bothered you.”

“Chantal Bradley, don’t you do that. You arenevera bother.”

“Then why do you sound angry with me?”

“Because what you are is a pain in my ass.”

She laughs into the line. I’m two hours away, she thinks someone tried to get into the house, won’t call the police to check it out—but laughs. “I’d like to ask you to stay on the line with me,” she says.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and exhale deep. “Like I’d let you gonow,” I tell her as I head back inside the room, lock the door, get comfortable on my bed under the covers, prop the pillow behind my back and neck, and lean against my other arm ready to keep vigil.

The nightmare from earlier gets pushed to the back of my mind because there’s only room for Tally right now. She talks and yawns. I answer her back but after each yawn, a few more minutes pass before she says something new until eventually her purring breath becomes the only sound echoing through the receiver. There’s not a chance in hell of me hanging up with her, minutes be damned.

To calm myself, I lay there just listening to her soft inhales and softer exhales until her alarm buzzes in the background.6:00 a.m.“Oh,”she says. “I fell asleep.”

“That’s fine,” I say back to her sharp intake of breath. I assume surprise.

“I didn’t think you’d still be here.” She yaws and I hear the rustle of her stretching.

To not wake up Jesse while we talk, I roll to my hip facing away from his bed. “Told you I wouldn’t hang up.”

“Case, didn’t you sleep?”

“Sleep’s overrated.” I whisper. “Besides, you wouldn’t call the cops so.”

“Are you going to stay on the line with me while I shower?” There’s an evil glint to the sound of her innocent voice, a real wolf in pink, cotton clothing.

“Let’s not go there.”

“We need to talk when you get back. Seriously. Since you’ve been gone all I’ve done is think about what you told me.”

It was a good night, this is the last thing we need.“Tally.”

“Casey.”

Rubbing my hands vigorously over my face, I bite back the curse on the tip of my tongue. “Go take your shower,” I say instead. “I’ll talk to you after work.” Then I hang up before she can answer because I have to hit the shower now, before Jesse wakes up and the grind starts again.

Another day of hard labor. Another night to worry about Chantal Bradley.

She and I talk every night from that point on. She tries to find openings to bring up the fact that I’m a monster. Every night I avoid it, keeping the conversation to inconsequential nothing. After I hang up then I call D to find out how she’s actually doing and to make sure he visits regularly.

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