Page 132 of The Sun and Her Star

“Listen, I get this shit is funny to you. But that woman is my whole life. The entirety of it. And I need to see her,” I teeth out, barely holding to my control. The last thing I need is to get arrested, too.

His laughter subsides, even though he’s still smiling as he picks up the phone.

“Campbell here. Send arrestee M17628 up to conference room four. Her pussy whipped boyfriend’s up here about to cry.”

I groan under my breath, but I don’t even care what he says, as long as he sends her to me.

He hangs up and looks up at me and grins. “Just busting your balls, son. Head down that hallway and let them know you’ve visiting someone in holding. Show your ID and give her name and they’ll take you down. And if you don’t make it, I call dibs on that watch.” He tries to stifle his laughter for all of half a second before he beats his palm on the desk and laughs at his joke.

I walk away, his laughter ringing in my ear. I’ve never been more scared in my entire life as I step into the room and wait for Apollo to be brought in.

Sorry

Apollo

When they tell me Graham is here, I spring to my feet from the cot I’ve been sitting on for the last hour. “Okay, good.”

I have to slip my hands through the rectangular opening in the bars and let them handcuff me. I’m grateful for them because I know that when I see Graham, I might be tempted to pick up the nearest object and stab him to death.

My heart is beating out of my chest by the time we reach the room where Graham is sitting. I see him through the observation glass and stop in my tracks.

His hair is gone. The buzz cut he’s sporting is similar to how he’d worn it the summer I met him.

The officer opens the door, and I hurry to catch up. I step into the room, and Graham stands up, his eyes wide and wild with worry and … fear. Yeah, he should be afraid.

“Sunsh—”

“What the hell did you do to your hair, Graham?” I ask him as I approach the table.

“No touching, please,” the officer says from behind me, and I stop. I huff in frustration and stop.

“Have a seat.” He stands by the chair across the table from Graham and nods his head toward it.

I walk over and comply. They’ve been nice to me, but I’ve also seen what happens when the other people they have in holding don’t listen. I sit sullenly in the chair.

“Put your hands on the table.”

I obey. He takes the cuff off my left wrist and secures it to a small bar that’s welded to the table on my right.

“Okay, I’ll be outside.” He looks at Graham and snorts, “Good luck, man.” And walks out.

I stare at the table and wait for Graham to speak.

He sits back down and slides his hand over my free one. I yank it back.

“Apollo, I’m so fucking sorry,” he says, his voice full of anguish.

I raise my head slowly to look at him. The pain in his eyes hits me like a fist in my chest. But I push it away. “What are you sorry for, exactly?” I ask him angrily.

“Everything. For tonight. For the last five years. For the two before those. For everything.”

“Everything? For lying to me? For making me think that you were fucking everyone but me because you wanted to? For not telling me how desperate you were so I could have tried to help you?”

He hangs his head. “Yes, for all of that, too,” he says quietly. He looks up, and the unshed tears in his eyes dissolve my anger like water poured off a lump of sugar. It seeps into the crevices and destroys the structure of it before it completely disintegrates. I watch him, my heart so full of sorrow for him that I can’t speak.

“Look, I know you’re disgusted by me. I know what I did was disgusting. I’m so ashamed of myself, Apollo. I don’t expect you to want to touch me again, or … whatever,” he says dejectedly, regret all over his face.

“Graham, I’m not disgusted by what you did for money. I mean, I wish you would have confided in me, so we could have found another way …”

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