Page 51 of Moth
“A sign of what?” I demand against my better judgment.
He shrugs. “That it’s probably not a good idea for you to hop on my dick, after all. Hate to disappoint.”
I feel my mouth drop open. “You are such an asshole.” A shrill sound pierces the quiet, louder than my text alert noise. My ringtone.
I freeze, my eyes on the device. It’s within arm’s reach of Rafe, and he doesn’t hesitate to grab it now. Deliberately, he crosses to me, shoving it into my hand, but he doesn’t back away. He uses his body as a barrier to block me in against the window. “Answer it.”
I don’t even have to see the name flashing across the screen to know who’s calling. I can practically read it written across Rafe’s icy stare.Bran <3.
“Fucking answer it,” he demands.
I do, scrambling to bring the receiver to my mouth. “H-Hello?”
“Hannah.”
“B-Bran?” I nearly drop the phone as fear penetrates my voice. Rafe stiffens, but I do my best to ignore him by injecting false cheer into my tone. “H-Hey… W-What’s going on? I…I was just making some breakfast.”
“Yummy,” he says flatly. “I texted you last night. You didn’t answer. I’ve been fucking texting you.”
“Oh, really?” I feign confusion. “My phone must have been on silent. I’m sorry.” My voice sounds hollow, like a bad actress speaking too loudly on stage. “And yesterday, I was really busy. We got tied up at the shop—”
“Too busy for me?” he counters. “The one person who gives a shit about you? For fuck’s sake, Hannah. All I ask is that you keep in contact with me. Is that so fucking hard?”
“I’m sorry—”
“Sorry? After everything I’ve fucking done for you? You know, you’ve been acting differently ever since that bullshit story made the paper. You think that means something? You’re so damn selfish. Wasting all this money on a worthless fucking degree, and for what? To get fucking attention by leaving home? Unless that’s notreallywhy you came here. Take a picture,” he demands. “Now.”
“B-Bran…” The hurt pinching in my chest gives way to genuine alarm. My hair is a mess. Despite changing, I think there’s blood on my clothing. Too many flaws to disguise even in a simple snapshot—not to mention Rafe, looming as if daring me to make him move. “I just got out of the shower, Bran.”
He scoffs at the excuse. “Do it. Show me you’re safe. That you’re not fucking lying to me…” He pauses deliberately, and I have a horrible sense as to why he’s really so angry. “I had Liam come by your apartment last night—you weren’t there.”
I feel my thumb flinch for the red button at the bottom of the screen. Hanging up will only piss him off. Enrage him. But his prying is too much to take on top of my bloody sewing session last night and everything else crowding my skull for attention. My skill for enduring is nonexistent. For once, I can’t play along.
“I have to go.”
“Wait—”
“I love you. Bye.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Rafe watching me, his expression unreadable as I stow the phone in the pocket of my sweatpants. Did he hear any of that conversation? I can’t even look at him.
“You should leave,” I tell him softly.
“Sure thing, bunny.” Pulling away from the wall, he manages to keep his balance long enough to undo my series of locks and open the door. Right before he steps into the hall, his fingers reach out, grazing the jagged hole right beside the doorjamb—my breathing stills. Though, if he suspects anything at all from the sight, he doesn’t reveal as much out loud.
“Let me know when you want that favor,” he says, letting his hand fall. “Oh…and I hope your boyfriend doesn’t mind the mess.” Without ever looking back, he crosses over the threshold and slams the door in his wake.
