Page 116 of When Wrecked Meets Ruined
After I left the hospital the night before, I ended up at the junkyard with a bottle of whiskey and a baseball bat, for old times’ sake.
I got drunk off my ass, then I threw the bottle in the air and whacked it with the bat, shattering the glass to smithereens. After that, I got to work on the Impala and took out all my anger and aggression. As if it was to blame for what happened to Evie. Metal crunched under my bat, and I kept swinging and swinging, bashing the shit out of that old car until I was covered in sweat and the roof had caved in.
With every swing of the bat, I’d envisioned Wade’s face.Whack. Chad Miller’s face.Whack. And every other asshole who had ever done Evie wrong.Whack. Whack. Whack.
But the one face I couldn’t imagine was the motherfucker who put Evie in the hospital. The man who beat the shit out of her and stole the light from her eyes. The man who had done unthinkable things to the girl I loved.
Now I gaped at the nurse who had calmly delivered the news as if my whole world hadn’t just been ripped away from me. “Gone?” I glared at her. “What do you mean she’s gone?”
“I’m sorry. She—”
“How long ago? How long ago did she leave?”
“Fifteen minutes ago.”
I’d missed her by fifteen fucking minutes.
That’s what I get for following the damn hospital rules and showing up during visiting hours.
I left the flowers with the nurse and barreled through the front door then strode up and down the parking lot, checking for Evie. As if I expected her to pop out from behind a car and yellGotcha, confirming that this whole nightmare was just a bad joke.
I whipped out my phone and called her while I paced in front of my truck. The call went directly to voice mail, just like the next three calls.
Goddammit. I turned and kicked the back tire, unleashing my anger. Once. Twice. Three times.
Where the fuck are you, Evie?
I climbed into my truck, threw it into reverse, and rocketed out of the parking lot. Fifteen minutes later, I parked in front of her house. The yellow police tape was still up, and the front door was boarded up, but nobody was guarding it.
I strode around the side of the house and climbed through Evie’s window.
The metallic scent of blood and men’s cologne filled my nostrils and churned my stomach. I stared at the blood-splattered mattress and the trail of blood leading to the door, and the room tilted, my vision blurring. I lurched forward and hung my head out the window, vomiting onto the patch of dirt below.
I dry heaved until there was nothing left except for the bitter taste of bile on my tongue, then stood up and leaned against the wall for support.
Just breathe.In. Out. In. Out.
My gaze landed on the perfume bottle on Evie’s dresser. I crossed the room and popped off the lid, inhaling deeply before I replaced the lid and stuffed the bottle in my pocket. Then I rifled through her closet and dresser drawers, confirming that her clothes were still there. It gave me hope that maybe she’d come back for them.
But I knew she’d never step foot in this house again.
I helped myself to a few photos of Evie and Wren, and with one last look around the bedroom, I left the way I’d come. Through the window.
The sad part? I already knew I’d lost her the night before, but I had hope that she’d prove me wrong.
Hope made a mockery of me.
Formonths, I texted and called. Left voicemails and messages. She never responded and I doubt she even listened or read the messages. Evie dumped my ass, and she never looked back.
She hadn’t even given me a choice.
I wanted to be the person she leaned on. I wanted to be there for her in any way she needed me.
If she needed time and space, I would have waited as long as she asked me to. But she never did.
She cut me off so completely that it was like she’d never been there at all.
There was a fine line between love and hate, and after she left me, I straddled that line, seesawing between the two most powerful emotions.
