Page 6 of Playing With Danger

His stare morphed into something different. The change was miniscule but unmistakable. His gaze heated even as his features softened. Then it was gone so fast I wondered if I’d imagined it. And when his guard went up to what I’d call a cop mask giving nothing away, he dipped his chin, followed by, “Drive safe home.”

“Thanks. You, too.”

I didn’t stick around to see if he had more to say. I could feel the anxiety of the day seeping in. On my way to my car I checked my watch, grateful Hayden would already be gone.

The closer I got to my complex the more the pressure built. By the time I pulled into the lot my chest felt heavy. When I made it into my apartment my breath was coming in short, choppy pants. But it wasn’t until I made it to my bed and curled into a ball did I let it sink in.

And not just what had happened that day.

Everything.

The way I lived my life.

The way I allowed people to treat me.

The way I’d stumbled through life taking scraps instead of reaching for more.

The way I tolerated the constant nagging from my mother.

The way I’d brushed off growing up with the knowledge my father had abandoned me.

The way I’d let everything get so out of control.

I was on a merry-go-round.

I wanted off.

I wanted more.

I wanted to try a different brand of spaghetti noodles, dammit.

I’d give myself this—one night to feel the despair of living half a life when today could’ve been it.

Lights out, never to wake up again, all over, the end.

Tomorrow I would figure out what I was going to do with the rest of my life.

3

My head throbbed, and not from the one glass of wine I’d allowed myself last night after my crying jag. It was from lack of sleep. My body ached like I’d gone five rounds with a heavy weight. Four tablets of Motrin and the hot water from the shower was doing nothing to alleviate the soreness in my muscles. Though showering with a plastic grocery bag duct-taped over the bandage Delilah had told me not to get wet wasn’t exactly conducive to a relaxing shower.

I was in the middle of rinsing the conditioner out of my hair, mentally bemoaning the pain I knew would accompany the removal of the silver tape that held the bag in place, when it happened. My breath seized in my lungs as freezing cold water smacked me in the face, leaving me sputtering.

“I hate you!” I grunted and moved fully under the warm water to stave off the chill.

“No, you don’t!” Hayden yelled back. “You love me.”

“It’s official. I’m breaking our marriage pact.”

The water pressure changed and I knew Hayden was refilling his bucket.

“We don’t have a marriage pact, goof.”

“If you throw another bucket?—”

Icy water rained over the curtain and doused me again.

“Asshole!”

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