Page 67 of Loss and Damages
I shuffle into the kitchen and pour a cup of the coffee Dominic made. I stir my favorite chocolate and almond creamer into it, and I feel almost human by the time I drain the mug. I lean against the counter and stare outside through the window above the sink, the moon that hasn’t given way to the sun flirting with the wisp of a cloud.
He comes up behind me and molds his clothed body to mine. “I want you. I want this,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around me. I won’t be able to sleep if he doesn’t stay, but going back to bed isn’t in his plans.
“But you won’t work for it.”
He sighs, and an angry tension fills the kitchen.
“I’m stretched thin, Jemma. You’re not being fair.”
I turn and face him. “How am I not being fair? I told you to go. Do what you have to do. I don’t understand how that’s not giving you what you want.”
Silence hangs in the air, and the chiming of his cell shatters it.
He fishes it out of the pocket of his slacks and accepts the call. “What?”
All I can hear is a dull buzz. A male’s voice. Could be anyone about anything. A man like Dominic...he does business twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. A phone call at three-thirty in the morning must not be anything to him, but whatever it might be is more important than me or he wouldn’t have answered it.Stop ignoring the red flags, Jemma.
Abruptly, the call ends, and he lowers the phone, the fight oozing out of him. “You’re right. This won’t work. This isn’t a good time, and you belonged to Leo first.” He kisses my forehead and mumbles against my skin, “I’m sorry.”
I don’t argue or beg him to stay.
He opens the door and strides off the porch. Seconds later he rounds the corner of the gallery, and seconds after that, the rev of his engine cuts through the dark.
It’s just loud enough to cover the sound of my heart cracking into a million pieces, resembling the shards of broken china in my gallery that can never be glued back together.
I strip my bed and shove the sheets into the washing machine. The scent of our lovemaking saturating the comforter is too much to bear, and I ball it up, shove it into a garbage bag, and toss it into the trashcan outside. It’s four in the morning by the time I shower and a quarter to five when I brew a fresh pot of coffee. I haven’t slept all night, but I’m running on pain and adrenaline and don’t need the sleep.
The sun is beginning to lighten up the sky, and I shuffle through the dew-soaked grass to the gallery and tape a notice on the door that says I’ll be closed for the foreseeable future. Everyone in town will hear about the vandalism over their morning coffee—albeit at a more civilized hour.
The cuts on my hands and knees ache, but nothing like the ache between my legs. He took me hard, in revenge, maybe, all because he drove out here after Leo’s funeral to confront me and ask if I was pregnant. I don’t know why, he never said except that he missed his brother, but if he hadn’t, none of this would have happened. Now I’m just another reminder his mother doesn’t love him, and the fact that I do isn’t enough. I’m wet, his cum still slowly leaking out of me, and I try to think when I last had my period. I’m too tired to recall and decide what will be will be.
I sit on the gallery’s porch step in a confused haze. The minutes tick by, but I don’t know how long I watch the sun sparkle on the water. I know I can’t just do nothing, no matter how much I hurt, and I call my brother and Tara and ask them to come help me.
“Are you okay?” Jeremy asks, his concern turning into a helpless anger.
“I’m fine. The police came out and everything’s insured. I need help picking up the pieces and I have to catalog everything that’s broken. I just—” I start crying. Not because I’m tired or scared, but because I miss Dominic and I’m never going to see him again. “I just don’t want to be alone.”
“We’ll be out as soon as we can, Jem, don’t worry. We’ll drop Maya off at Mom and Dad’s and we’ll stay as long as you need us to, okay?”
“Thanks.”
“See you soon. Hang in there.”
While I wait, I force myself to eat a little breakfast. A bump is forming on the back of my head where I hit the wall, and there’s a bruise on my shoulder from that heavy painting when it fell on me. I take some ibuprofen and have more coffee, and I’m feeling well enough to put on a brave face when Tara and Jeremy roll into the driveway.
He’s out the door and I’m in his arms before Tara can unlatch her seatbelt.
“Who the fuck did this?” he asks, hugging me.
“I don’t know who would bother. I haven’t listened to the news, maybe they hit a couple of other stores last night, too. I don’t know why they would target me.”
“You said there were some kids causing trouble last summer,” Tara says, joining us and rubbing my arm. “Maybe they’re back.”
“Nick and Buddy answered the 911 call. They won’t stop until they figure it out. I need to clean up and I guess look into adding a security system.”
“You should have done that a long time ago,” Jeremy chides.
I should have, but crime isn’t a big deal in Hollow Lake. Kids trying to shoplift, skateboarders hogging the sidewalks and pushing pedestrians into the street. Things like that. Even thekids Tara heard me talk about last summer were only into spray paint and graffiti, and they focused on the shops on Main Street.
