Page 44 of Pocketful of Shame

Reeling from Sketch's confession, I lay awake all night, taking comfort in the arm Pres had slung over my shoulders and the sound of his soft snoring, while I kept my eyes glued to the door. Time crawled by at a snail's pace, with the dark eventually being replaced with the dawn, but Sketch never came back to the room.

"Your dad wanted me out of the picture. He wanted me away from you so badly that he was willing to uproot your entire world and ship you off to a boarding school in Europe to make that happen. So, I made a deal with him…. I did what I thought was right…I kept my side of the deal. Your father didn’t."

So many lies. So many bitter regrets. None of which I could do a damn thing to change. Sketch was right when he said hashing up the past wouldn’t change the present. The only thing we could do now was try to crack the puzzle Chris had left behind. Still, I couldn’t let what Sketch said go. I couldn’t let it rest, not until I said my peace.

Numb, I climbed out of bed, taking care not to wake Pres, who had deemed me the little spoon to his big spoon earlier in the night. Getting around with the damn boot was a curse, but I managed to hobble over to Presley's pile of discarded clothes and snag his phone.

Tapping in the number I knew by heart, I crept into the adjoining bathroom before placing the call. With my heart in my mouth, I pressed the phone to my ear and waited until he picked up.

"Cal Dillon."

"How could you?" were the first words that came out of my mouth. Balling my free hand into a fist, I sank down on the closed toilet lid and hissed, "I trusted you."

"Romi?" The relief in my father's voice was evident. "Oh, thank god you're alright, sweet pea. Half the country is out looking for you. Where are you?"

"Answer me," I demanded, keeping my voice hushed. "Why, Dad?"

"Romi, you need to tell me where you are –"

"No," I hissed. "You need to tell me why you made him break up with me?"

There was a long stretch of silence before my father sighed heavily down the line. "Of course. You're with him right now, aren’t you?" His voice took on a harder tone when he said, "Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"

"Do you have any idea how heartbrokenI'vebeen?" I cried hoarsely. "Ilovehim, Daddy. For my whole life, I've only lovedhim. I've only wantedhim, and you took him from me."

"Just tell me where you are and I'll come get you," he tried to change the subject by saying. "We can talk about Holden then."

"No," I spat. "Youtookhim from me. Hehatesme now. Do you get that? He can't even look at me because he thinks I betrayed him with Chris. He sacrificed his own happiness to keep me in Pocketful because he thought that's what I needed, and you just stood by and let it happen. You saw me cry for months – you saw me lose my fucking mind over him, and youlet it happen. I can never trust you again. Never. You took him from me and you locked me up. I begged you not to send me there and you didn’t listen. I told you I loved him and you didn’t listen. Youneverlisten–"

"Enough!" my father bellowed down the line. "Tell me where you are right this instant, young lady."

"Why?" I demanded bitterly while I kicked off my sweatpants. "So you can send me back to hell?" I shook my head and wiped my nose with my sleeve. "No, this timeyoucan go to hell."

"Ramona –"

"Goodbye, Dad."

"No, no. Don’t you dare hang up on –"

I ended the call before he had a chance to finish and tossed the phone in the nearby sink. Dropping my head in my hands, I dug my fingers into my scalp and drew in several deep breaths. It didn’t help. Nothing helped.

Swallowing several times to clear the huge lump in my throat, I concentrated on keeping my breathing even and not giving in to the panic attack threatening to overtake me.Breathe, Romi. Just keep breathing. Nice and slow.

A knock on the bathroom door stirred me from my thoughts. "Romi?" Presley's voice came from behind the door moments before it creaked open. "I'm not coming in, okay?" he hurried to say before sticking an arm around the door and dropping several shopping bags on the bathroom floor. "Just wanted to give you these."

"What's all this?"

"Sketch had me pick some stuff up for you," was all he replied before closing the door.

Sketch.

Sketch.

Sketch.

Oh god…

"Pres?" I called out, feeling weak.

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