Page 2 of Hale Yes
Helix: I’ve talked to you twice already since I’ve been here, Kayla.
Kayla: But I’ve called two more times, and you didn’t pick up.
I resist the urge to type in all caps.
Helix: Because I’m with my brothers.
Kayla: Are you dancing with anyone?
Helix: Have you ever seen me dance?
Kayla: I guess not. Who else is there?
I can literally hear her demanding voice even though we’re only texting. Fuck me. I’m not sure how much longer I can do this. Glancing around the group in the VIP section of Titanium, the club we’re at, I type back.
Helix: Few guys from Phoenix’s frat. And Dutton.
Our cousin, Dutton Hale, shouldn’t fit in at this swanky club with its shiny metallic interior. He’s a cowboy, through and through, and he’s dressed as such with a pearl-snap shirt, starched Wranglers, and his trademark black cowboy hat. Atleast he’s wearing his nice boots tonight and not his dirty shit-kickers.
But Dutton can fit in anywhere. He’s a lot like Phoenix in that regard. With sandy-brown hair and an ever-present smile, he’s one of the most likable people I’ve ever met.
And if you’re wondering, in my head my cousin is the color of a golden retriever.
Kayla: There’s no one else in the club?
Jesus fucking Christ. My patience is being tried right now. Gritting my teeth, I reply.
Helix: There are several hundred people here. Would you like for me to go around and get all their names and assemble a spreadsheet I can send to you?
Kayla: You don’t have to be so mean about it. I was just asking.
Cue the tears. I don’t have to see her to know she’s crying, so I heave out a sigh and, after downing another shot, excuse myself and work my way toward the hallway that runs in front of the restrooms. It’s a little quieter back here.
Trying to find some patience I don’t feel in the slightest, I tap my phone to place the call.
“H-hello?” Kayla’s voice sounds meek and hesitant.
“What did you need?” I ask sharply, hanging onto the end of a very frayed rope.
“Oh, I… uh…” She fumbles for a reason for the multiple calls, and when she can’t come up with anything, she finishes lamely. “When are you coming home?”
“Tomorrow. Tonight I’m staying at the hotel next door with Phoenix.” Then I add pointedly, “Like I already told you.”
To be completely honest, I’m not a hundred percent sure I’m going to stay at the hotel tonight because all I want to do is go home and crash in my own bed. My mattress is better than anything you can find at even the most luxurious hotel.
“But I’m waiting for you in your bedroom,” she purrs, and my decision shifts automatically. I’ll suffer through the hotel’s sub-par bed rather than going back to my house.
And that’s when I know the end has finally come. I’d rather give up my comfort than go home and fuck my own girlfriend. Kayla isn’t an overly sexualized woman, but she uses it when it benefits her, and I willingly accept every opportunity. But not tonight.
If I’m being honest, the end should have been six months ago. In fact, I’d been on my way to Kayla’s apartment to break up with her back in November, but when I got there, she told me the doc had put her grandmother on hospice care. While I’m not in love with Kayla, I’m not a complete dickhead, so I stayed.
Her grandma died two days later, and I couldn’t do the breakup while Kayla was actively grieving. And here we are in May. Six months is an appropriate amount of time to stay in a relationship I’m desperate to get out of, right?
“I told you I wouldn’t be home because tonight is about Phoenix.”
“But…”
I try to keep the coldness I feel out of my voice and aim for resolute. “Good night, Kayla. I’m turning off my phone, and I’ll see you at the wedding tomorrow.” Before she can reply, I hang up.
