Page 49 of A Ballad of Betrayal and Beauty

“Maybe I want to pay to watch a movie with you.”

I scoff. “Usually that’s a date.”

“Consider it a tip for a job well done. Besides, there’s something about your voice. It makes me feel better knowing you’re on the other side of the line.”

Oh no.Oh no, oh no, oh no. Not him too. What the fuck is wrong with me? I cannot fall for two guys at once. Especially not some random faceless man on the phone.

“It would be nice to just listen to you breathing. It’s like you’re here,” he whispers.

Another tear falls down my face and I sniff. “Okay,” I whisper back. The truth is I don’t think I could take another call right now. I might just fall apart emotionally if I don’t get this break. So I pull my feet up under me, wipe my cheeks, and say, “Do you think you could turn it up a bit more?”

He chuckles softly and the volume increases, so I can hear it as if there’s a TV right in front of me. I’ve seen the movie so many times that when I close my eyes, I can envision it before me. See the scenes as I hear them play out. And every so often, I hear him move, the sheets of his bed rustling, or the sound of him breathing. It feels so nice.

Sooner than I’d like, the credits roll, the outro plays, and I’ve nearly fallen asleep at my desk while listening to my favorite movie after having one of the strangest yet most intense orgasms of my life.

“Movie’s over,” he says.

“I guess this means goodbye then.”

“Just for now.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

“Until next time, sweetheart.”

CHAPTER13

If You Leave

KEY

Twelve Years Ago

“You have to go to the hospital,” I say insistently.

Dusty shakes her head. “Don’t be stupid. I’m fine.”

But the bruising on her stomach disappearing up under her shirt is dark and angry and my blood boils at the sight of it. “You can’t even catch your breath. What happened?”

Pushing me away weakly, her nostrils flare. “I said I’m fine, Key!”

My fists clench, and I have to take a deep breath to keep myself from shouting and slamming my fist through the wall. “Did your dad do?—”

“For fuck’s sake,” she shouts, pulling at her hair. “Why can’t you just let it go? You don’t always have to be the big hero.”

I blink. “I wasn’t—” My jaw swings open like a broken door, unable to figure out how to respond as I watch her stumble and collapse onto the worn couch. A cloud of dust flies up into the air as she drops, the particles glittering around her head in the sunlight. “I’m not trying to be a hero.”

Her eyes softly close and her head falls back on the couch. “I didn’t mean . . . I’m sorry.” She turns her head toward me and tugs her lips up into a small smile. “I promise, I’m fine. Okay?”

Even though her legs are still covered in yellowing bruises from the past few weeks, and she takes short quick breaths to avoid expanding her lungs too much because it hurts, I don’t want to upset her any more than I already have. So I nod. “Okay.”

She smiles for real and pats the couch seat next to her. “Come on, then. You promised me more songs.”

I pull at the back of my neck and mumble, “I wrote a few down for you.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.” I grab the pile of papers from my backpack and the guitar from the side of the couch before sitting down. “They’ll be hard to read,” I blurt.

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