Page 39 of Call Me Anytime
“No hotels. No houses. No anything that anyone invites you to on this phone line, or by any other unexpected message or call at any time,” he clarifies, talking slowly to ensure I’ll understand.
I’m not dense, but I am panicked, and boy does that make it hard to listen.
I nod again, agreeing. “No meeting up with strangers anywhere.”
“Yep. You got it.” He leans forward to search my eyes. “You good now?”
“Oh yeah.” A laugh barks from my lungs. “I’m fantastic.”
Dom smiles, but it’s a little sad.
“I am ... okay.” I take another deep breath. “Really. I’m okay. But I also think I’m done for the day. I know that’s not helpful, and I know you guys were supposed to be here for several more hours, but I think I need to go home and take a hot shower and see my mom and Lovie with my own eyes.”
“I completely understand,” Dom replies easily. “Trust me. We have plenty of other shit we can do.”
I shut my eyes for a brief moment and inhale a cleansing breath. “Okay.”
“Are you okay to drive home?”
“Yeah. I’m ... good.” He frowns at me, and I correct my words. “I’ll be better tomorrow. But yesterday was a rough day, and today is feeling ... well ... worse, and I just need the night.”
“I understand,” he says, but concern sits within the depths of his ocean-colored eyes as he closely searches my face. “You have my number and you can—”
I laugh, cutting in, my eyes rolling before I can stop them. “Call you anytime.”
A soft burst of sarcasm leaves his lungs, but then his eyes turn serious again. “I mean it, though. Day or night, Hannah.”
For some reason, I feel a rush of unexpected comfort. I can’t wait for this whole thing to be over, and yet ... I know I’m going to miss the way Dom makes me feel—safe, cared for. Like someone else is in the fight with me.
I’ve known Dom for only a short time, but with how much direct contact I’ve had with him lately, I feel like I’ve known him for years.
If I’m being honest, he’s become a bit of a security blanket when I come in to work my CMA shifts. I don’t know how I’ll be able to handle it on my own again when they’re done with this case, and he’s gone.
Sheesh.As if I needed for things to be more complicated than they already are.
2:30 p.m.
Lovie is pulling a tray of chicken breasts and mixed vegetables out of the oven as I make it to the top of the stairs, weary and weathered and probably looking a million years old.
My hair is disheveled, my shirt is wrinkled, and my shoes squeak from the rain that hit just as I was walking to my car from the CMA warehouse.
The TV blares like normal,NCISthe unsurprising focus, and my mom doesn’t even look back as Ziva and Tony roll around under the covers of a hotel room bed, pretending to have sex. I remember the season 3 episode well. The two of them are impersonating marriedassassins for an undercover assignment. And every time my mom sees this episode, it reignites her obsession with seeing Tony and Ziva get together for real.
“Oh, honey. You’re a mess,” Lovie says the instant she spots me, removing her oven mitts after tossing the tray on top of the stove and rushing toward me. “What are you doing home so early? Is everything okay?”
“I’m ...” I struggle to find the words to craft my lie, wanting to protect Lovie from the truth just as much as I want to protect my mom. Dom’s voice echoes in my mind, calm and reassuring as it always is, and I wish, for just a moment, that I could borrow some of his steadiness to get through this conversation. The reality of how I’m feeling is almost too much to bear, and my brain locks up like it’s frozen in time. I’m unable to finish the thought, much less even begin to offer her an explanation.
“Come here,” Lovie urges, ushering me to a stool behind the kitchen island. “Sit down for a minute and take a breath.”
I don’t even try to stop her, going willingly into the seat and tossing my purse onto the counter. I avoid her concerned gaze as I try to decide whether I can tell her the current state of my life.
Trust me, I want to get it off my chest. Need to, to be honest. But can I? Should I even? I don’t know. For one, she thinks my new job revolves around telemarketing. And two, I was explicitly told by both Dom and Shane that I’m not supposed to talk about the case. Well,cases, I should say, because there’s not just one murder that’s led them to investigating my Ruby phone line.
There aretwo.
Clearly, there’s a whole list of pros and cons, but right now, the freedom of sharing with someone who isn’t a detective, someone close to me, someone whom I love dearly, is almost too tempting to deny. No matter the consequences.
“I ...” I lift my eyes to meet hers. She’s standing at the counter, her elbows resting on top of it, and her gaze fixated on my face asshe waits for some kind of reassurance from me. She’s worried, that much is clear by the tightness of her face. “Lovie, the job I took is with a ...” I pause and then I just blurt out the truth. “A phone sex call service.”
