Still, I’m at least willing to listen to what he has to say, because at the end of the day, leaving him and my life here in Dogwood is the last thing I want.
“For starters, we don’t take his shit lying down,” Simon says vehemently. “First thing we need to do is call the police and report what just happened. After that, we need to fill everyone in on what’s happening.”
“D-do we have to tell them?” I ask, sniffling as my tears begin to dry.
“Yeah, baby, we do. We need to get them in the loop so when you’re not with me, the girls know to be alert. The guys need to know too, in case he tries anything with them to get to you.”
I deflate. Simon’s totally right.Dammit.“Okay, I s-see your point.”
He gives me a warm smile before laying his lips on mine. “No more tears, not over him. He doesn’t deserve any part of you—never did.” I try to return his smile, but my own is weak and frail. “Now, I’m gonna call the police so we can file a report, okay?”
I nod and he pulls his phone from his pocket. I watch as he taps out 911, nerves racing through me, and I can hear the sound of ringing then the muffled voice of the dispatcher.
“Yes, ma’am, I’d like to report an attempted hit-and-run.”
I hear more murmuring from the dispatcher. She almost sounds the way the adults do in Charlie Brown, which makes my smile a little perkier.
Simon rattles off his address and ends the call. Turning, he tosses the phone onto my bed and brings his hand to my face, palming my cheek.
“What’d she say?” I ask.
“Said an officer was going to come out to get a statement. They should be here in a bit.”
I process his words, dread and anxiety churning in my stomach. “Great. L-let’s eat?”
“Oh, shit! Lunch!” Simon exclaims. “I forgot all about lunch.”
“It’s f-fine. I just made a salad. We can go eat it now.”
I pad out of the room and to the kitchen, Simon following behind me. I direct him to have a seat at the table while I shuffle back and forth, bringing the salad bowl, tongs, two plates, flatware, and drinks over to the table.
“I coulda helped you bring all that,” Simon says as he plates himself a large portion of salad.
“I know, but I…I like doing things like this for you.” I duck my head at my admission, worrying he’ll think I’m weak or silly.
“Do you?” he asks, running his thumb across his bottom lip. “Or do you feel like you have to?”
Confused, I gape at him, wondering why on earth he’d ask me that.
Sensing that he upset me, Simon is fast to explain himself. “What I mean is, I don’t want you doing this out of a sense of obligation or because you think I want you to. We’re equals, Goldilocks, and I want to do as much for you as you do for me. I don’t ever want there to be an imbalance of power between us, you get me?”
My heart softens at his words. This man, my God,this man.
“I m-mean it, Simon. It makes me happy, and youdodo a lot for me. Think of all the things you’ve helped me with. I love you, so let me do these little things for you, p-please?”
“If it’s what you truly want, who am I to stop you? Just don’t complain or argue when I do shit for you.”
Finally, a genuine smile stretches across my face. “Deal. Let’s eat before the cops get here.”
Our conversation ceases as we both dig into the salad I made. Simon rinses our plates while I wipe down the table, and the knock on the door startles us both. We pause our current activities and head toward the entrance of the house.
I stand slightly behind Simon as he checks the peephole then unlocks and opens the door. “It’s the same two from the other night,” he says as the officers come into view.
“I thought the name dispatch gave me sounded familiar,” Officer Byrnes says in way of greeting.
“Unfortunately,” Simon replies, stepping back to allow the duo to enter. “Let’s move this to the living room.”
Once we’re all settled, they waste no time. “So, what exactly happened?” Officer Benson asks, pen and notepad in hand.