Page 10 of Castaway Whirlwind
Flabbergasted by his audacity, especially when I kept my voice low so I wouldn’t raise his hackles, I spit, “You did not just tell me to chill.”
I immediately regret it when he works his jaw, then cracks his neck. Since this conversation is going downhill fast, I have to control myself and change tactics. I soften my voice as I approach him, my legs bumping into the arm of the couch, and I run my fingers through the back of his hair, which he always loves.
“I can find someone else to cover my shift tomorrow. Wecan take the car back to the dealership and then shop around for one that’s maybe a few years older. See if we can work out a deal that fits in our budget.”
He jerks his head to the side, away from my fingers. “Stop it. I know what you’re doing.”
“Steven—”
“No.”
Taking a deep, calming breath after my adrenaline spikes, I tell him, “You can’t just say no. Please think about it. We can’t afford it. It has to go back.”
And then Steven, the man I’m supposed to spend the rest of my life with, turns his head and laughs at me. “You can’t afford it, but I can.”
His words hit me like a tidal wave, dragging me under water. “What does that mean?”
“What do you think it means, Lady? Working all your shitty little jobs, you can’t afford it. I have a real job, so I can.” Steven drains the rest of his beer and stands, towering over me, even when he bends to say, “I’m not taking it back, so get off my fucking back already.”
Steven sidesteps me into the small kitchen and opens the off-white refrigerator we bought from a local Buy and Sell page online to grab another beer, then cracks the top of the bottle against the edge of the counter to pop the cap off.
“I asked you to stop doing that. We’re never going to get our security deposit back if you keep damaging the counter.” I press my lips flat with more regret for speaking up about it right now when he’s already in a defensive mood.
Steven whirls on me after slamming the fridge closed, bottles of condiments rattling inside. “Don’t fucking tell me what to do. This is my house, and I’ll do whatever the hell Iwant!”
I take an automatic step back toward the bedroom, then another. “Stop it. Don’t talk to me like that.”
“Or what, Lady?” He laughs after taking a swig, and I notice a few more empties on the counter behind him. “What’re you going to do about it? Leave me?” he asks sarcastically, leading to more cruel laughter.
“Who are you?” He has Steven’s face, Steven’s voice, and is wearing Steven’s clothes, but this is not a man I recognize. Things have become increasingly strained between us the longer I’ve put off the wedding, but this man before me is a total stranger.
Steven bangs the bottle on the kitchen peninsula when he sets it down, the carbonated liquid bubbling up to spill over the sides. “I am the man in this house, and what I say goes!”
The last bit of my forced calm snaps, and I stupidly step up and jam my finger into his chest. “Oh, you’re the man in this house, huh? Well, my dad taught me that a real man doesn’t go out and throw all his money away on fancy TVs and sports cars after destroying the last one. A real man takes pride in his home and—”
“My dad this, my dad that,” he mocks with a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Fuck your dad! You want a real man?” He fists the thick pink hoodie I’m wearing over my uniform, GRANNY’S GIRLS ironed on the back in sparkly gold vinyl letters. His hot breath fans over my dry lips when he says, “Then show me you’re a woman who’s worth it.” He lets go of my hoodie and drops a hand to squeeze his dick over his jeans. “Bend over the counter and open your fucking legs.”
I know that if I do what he wants, it would deescalate the situation, and he’ll be nicer to me for a few days afterward,like usual, but I recoil, my stomach twisting. I roll and pinch my lips between my teeth, backing away, my spine connecting with the wall next to our bedroom door.
In a move so much like my stepdad, he grabs his beer and throws it across the room. The bottle explodes against the door, and I duck and cover my head.
I slide down the wall and hug my knees, wishing more than ever that my dad was alive and here to hug me and take me home. I wouldn’t even care that he’d lecture and punish me for having sex with Steven and moving in with him before we were married. For notputting on my big girl pantiesand working harder to stay in school to get a well-paying job so I could contribute more to the household instead of being weak and manipulating a man into taking care of me.
“Pathetic,” Steven sneers, picking up and throwing another bottle, this time at the hood above the broken stove that still needs replacing, denting the cheap metal. “All you do is nag me to death! Can’t even fuck you without you crying about it, so what’s the fucking point in being with you?” He stomps across the room, bending over me.
I shake, pressing my nose between my knees, fearful of what this stranger will do when all I’ve ever tried to do was be good to him.Forhim.
“You and your shit better be gone by the time I get back,” he says in an abrupt change of tone, his voice low, the threat ofor elseleft unspoken. The screen door slaps closed behind him when he leaves, his car engine roaring when he takes off down the road, putting his life and others’ at risk by driving drunk—something else a real man wouldn’t do.
It’s also something I can’t ignore, even if all my survival instincts tell me I’m making a mistake. It’ll piss Steven offas soon as he finds out, but it’s a risk I have to take or I’ll never be able to live with myself.
I crawl into the kitchen, avoiding the broken glass, and grip the counter to pull myself up to empty my stomach in the metal sink. My clammy hands tremble so much afterward that it takes me a few tries to find Sheriff Gibson’s personal contact in my phone, which he gave to all the girls after Dolly was attacked shortly after we met. I hold my phone to my ear with my shoulder when I finally get my legs to cooperate enough to stand, then hurry to pack my belongings, stealing Steven’s luggage since I don’t have any of my own.
“Layla? Is everything ok?” Sheriff Gibson’s voice is gritty with sleep, and I feel terrible about waking him…but not as terrible as I would if I chose to do nothing and Steven hurt someone.
“Steven and I got into a fight.”
Sheets rustle in the background, and feet pound the floor. “Are you at home?”
