Page 24 of Wreck Me

Or a super short conversation.

It would all depend on if I had the lady balls to go through with it.

* * *

Warm huesof orange filled my apartment through the open curtains as the sun went down behind the horizon. I hadn’t moved from my spot on the couch, its cushions permanently indented by my ass and torso, since my legs—now both of them—were hanging over the top of the couch.

Caleb was a no-show, and I did my best to brush off the anxiety laced pain centered in my rib cage.

Honestly, I had expected this. What I hadn’t expected was him completely ghosting me. I thought he’d at least tell me to my face that this wasn’t what he wanted. I knew we’d be a complicated mess, but I had still remained hopeful. Maybe I shouldn’t have.

My stomach growled as I mechanically scrolled through Louis Vuitton’s website on my phone, lusting over the gorgeous tourterelle gray Nano Noé I could no longer afford. Retail therapy used to be my favorite way to cope with the disappointments in my life, but these days my version of retail therapy was picking out which flavors of Cup of Noodle soup I was going to add to my basket.

A fifty-five cent soup was now my retail therapy when it used to be a two thousand dollar bag.

My mind ricocheted between thoughts of Caleb ditching me and thoughts of my father selling me off like a cheap whore. Okay, maybe an exaggeration, but it’s what it felt like. He was up to something. A lifetime of tip-toeing around my father had proven he was a selfish man, always out to benefit himself.

Toggling to a different page on my phone, I scrolled through the new arrivals on Chloé’s website, fawning over the ankle boots I desperately wanted to give a home to. I built my cart, adding everything that caught my eye just to torture myself. As materialistic as it was, the best part of growing up in my lonely house was access to my father’s black card. He never cared how much I spent, and shopping on his dime was more gratifying.

My gaze shifted to my Louis, sitting on my entryway table, and I looked longingly at the bag that still brought me so much joy. I could feel my privilege showing. And I hated myself a little for it.

I can’t believe he never showed up.

Iknewhe felt it, too. Every kiss, every touch–it wasn’t just physical between us, though. He saw me. Therealme. Caleb broke through my walls and got me to open up to him in ways I hadn’t expected to open up to anyone. I had never told a soul about how I came to be, or about how much contempt my father holds for me.

The face of perfection was just a mask for sorrow.

Caleb made me addicted to the way he made me feel. He never tried to silence me, or make me feel lesser than.

For once in my life, I felt special and cherished–dare I sayloved.

Because dammit, I think I loved him. And I had a sickening feeling in my gut it was too late.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

“Well, kid. You ain’t gon’ like this estimate. If I was in the auto insurance biz, I’d do you a favor and deem your car as totaled. It’s a miracle you’re even alive after driving this thing for so long, boy.”

A low growl vibrated through my chest as I raked my hand through my hair, leaning forward on the folding chair my ass was parked on for the last five and a half hours. I was angry, hungry, and going out of my mind thinking about Isla and the cold, hard fact I had completely vanished on her. But my phone died ten minutes after I got to the garage, and no one in the facility had a phone charger they could lend me.

What I thought would be a quick thirty-minute task ruined my entire day.

“What are we looking at?” I asked, digging my thumb and pointer finger into my eyes, rubbing them roughly, trying to ease the stress that had built behind them. My head was pounding.

“Busted valves, overused piston rings, disintegrating filters—not to mention—no friggin’ oil.” He stopped and scratched the top of his head, looking at the carbon paper in front of him with the mile long list of problems with my car. “Don’t get me started on the state of your transmission. Kid, I don’t know how you’ve been driving this around. Even your camshaft is startin’ to break.”

My eyes closed, and I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of new tires and lingering gasoline. “Anything else I need to know about?”

“Your tires are bald.”

Fuck.This situation couldn’t possibly get any worse.

“Even if I give you a huge break on labor, you’re still looking at upwards of sixty-five hundred.”

Well, I was wrong about it not getting any worse.

Bracing my elbows on my knees, I leaned my head into my hands and took a few deep breaths, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do. I’d been driving in a death trap for who knows how long.

I couldn’t knowingly drive Isla in my car now. Not with all the repairs needing to be done. Her safety came first, and I could never jeopardize it for the sake of taking her somewhere.

---