Page 139 of Resisting Isaac
And a kiss emoji. But I don’t tell him that part.
I’d responded with a hurricane of questions.Where are you? Can I call you? Can I come see you? Are you okay?
An apology for hurting her with a vow never to allow that to happen again and a half a dozen pleas for her forgiveness.
She’d responded with absolutely nothing. No three dots indicating she was even considering messaging me back. Not even a covertfuck youdisguised a thumbs up emoji.
This woman is going to be the death of me.
She’s not answering her phone and hasn’t checked into the local hotel or any of the surrounding ones.
I know because I’ve called everyone I know. And I know most everyone in the tri-county area.
It’s not exactly like she has friends around here she could be staying with.
“I feel like shit,” I tell Wyatt, dropping into a seat at his kitchen table trying not to think about the debauchery that has occurred on it. I’m no one to judge. If I get my girl back, I’m going to make slow sweet love to her on every available surface. Then punish her like she likes, then worship every inch of her. Rinse. Repeat.
It’s like her kinks were made for my ADHD brain.
She was made for me.
I know it as sure as I know my own damn name.
And now she’s gone.
Because I lost her. Because I’m a fucking moron.
I set my hat on the nearby counter and drag a hand through my hair.
“I’m sure she’ll turn up,” Wyatt says, busying himself at the counter. “Coffee?”
“The last thing I need is to be more jacked up right now,” I admit. “I know Elena is pissed at me, but I also know how seriously she takes her job. If she doesn’t reach out to Ivy in the next hour, I’m going to start climbing the fucking walls.”
My brother frowns as he fills a thermos with black coffee then adds a shit-ton of sugar to it.
“Since when do you put sugar in your coffee? And why do you need enough to give you diabetes?”
He smirks as he adds an obscene amount of cream. “It’s for Ivy. With the severe weather coming, they’re going to be filming late into the night to make up for . . . the delays.”
“Meaning me breaking a contract before the ink was dry, getting the lead actress pregnant, flying her to New Mexico for a fake wedding, then pissing her off until she vanishes off the planet? Those delays?”
He pours himself a cup of black coffee and takes a drink. “Yeah, those are the ones.”
“Scale of one to ten, how pissed is Ivy at me? Seriously?”
Wyatt sighs heavily. Stares at me with his brows dipping inward. “That’s something you should discuss with my wife, brother. But she’s taken this all surprisingly well. She was happy for you when it looked like . . .”
“Like I wasn’t going to completely fuck it all up and ruin the lives of all involved parties?”
Wyatt says nothing. Just finishes his coffee. Sets his cup in the sink, and screws a lid on the thermos. “I need to run this out to her so she can stay awake for the next nine hours of filming.”
Before he leaves, he places a hand on my shoulder. “Everyone understands your situation is complicated,” he says evenly. “No one is pointing fingers or blaming you.”
“They should,” I admit.
Wyatt shrugs. “Life is hard. Relationships are hard. Both are increasingly difficult if you do dumb shit like go to a strip club after your first fight.”
“Heard about that, did you?”
