Page 96 of Off-Limits
Pulling my phone away, my finger hovers over his name, but just as I’m about to call him, there is a knock at the doorthat startles me. Snapping upright, my hand clutches my chest to steady my racing heartbeat.
“Open up, Wench! I know you’re in there; your deathtrap of a car is in the parking lot.”
Arrie. Shit!
I feel like I’ve been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
I lock my phone, and give myself a pep talk, as I walk to the door to let Arrie in. Closing my eyes, I take a few deep breaths before jumping when Arrie knocks again.
I open the door to find her standing there with a shit eating grin on her face. She looks happy, and the contentment I was feeling moments ago is replaced with deep-seated guilt, and fear of her finding out.
“You going to let me in, or what?” she asks, pushing me out of the way and barging in.
Swallowing, I close the door and follow her in, unease prickling within me. Arrie turns around, her blonde hair flying around as she does, and then she’s pinning me with a glare. Before I have a chance to plead my case, she speaks.
“Where the fuck have you been lately? Even though you’re back home, I feel like we barely see each other,” she demands, finishing with pout.
Relief floods my system. This I can work with.
“You wanted me to help out at the workshop, paint a mural, and then I have my parents…”
Arrie’s features soften, and I feel like a lying sack of shit, but I can’t tell her the truth, not yet. Damon and I haven’t spoken about how we are going to break the news to her, or when.
My stomach churns with the motion of possibilities.
Will she accept our relationship?
Will she be angry?
Will she hate me?
That last thought leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I don’t want to lose Arrie, but I don’t want to lose Damon. It’s a shitty situation I’ve found myself in, but there has to be a way we can work through this.There has to be.
“Earth to Dottie?” Arrie says, clicking her fingers in my face, and I wonder when she found her way in front of me.
“Yeah, shit, what were you saying?”
“How is your dad?”
The memory my mother and I shared resurfaces, but I’m not ready to tell that tale twice, not when I feel rubbed raw as it is. A bout of betrayal buckets through me because I usually tell Arrie everything, and the secrets seem to be piling higher and higher.
“He seems ok. For now.”
“Ok. Good. So, what are you doing tonight?”
I want to tell her I’m spent, and that I want to spend the night cuddled up with her dad, my fucking boyfriend.
I feel my lips lift in a smile before I can catch it.
“What is that smile for, cousin? You got some secrets to tell me about this new lover boy?”
You have no idea, Arrie.
“Not really,” I answer, shrugging.
“Bullshit.”
“What?”
