Page 99 of Off-Limits
I forbid it.
Whistling a random tune, I hop out the shower and wrap a towel loosely around my waist. Swiping my hand over the foggy mirror, I dry my face and apply some moisturiser and add some styling clay to my hair, before dropping the towel and heading back into my room.
Toeing into some jeans and a black shirt, I find myself drawn to my phone. After our brief text messages when I dropped Dottie off, I didn’t hear from her for the rest of the evening, and with how busy I was putting everything together, by the time I looked at the clock it was midnight.
Seeing the blinking light on the top of my phone, I smile and open it. I read over Dottie’s message at least a dozen times, trying to comprehend what the fuck is happening before I press the call button.
It goes straight to voicemail.
“Dorothy, it’s Damon. Call me as soon as you get this message. We need to talk. Love you.”
I hang up the phone, throw it on the bed, and start pacing the room. Why the fuck would she go back to Sydney? And why the hell would she tell me not to follow her?
That we are over.
Like fucking hell we are.
The mere thought has my gut twisting, my throat closing up, and my heart beating out of sync because she isn’t here anymore. She’s gone. I won’t allow this to happen, I can’t, but there is one thing for certain, we aren’t finished.
I can’t stop the carousel of fuckery waging war on my mind right now. It’s making me sick. Goddamn it to hell.
But then my phone rings, and I race back to the bed, but my relief is short lived when I see Arrie’s number light up the screen. Shit this is not the time, but I press the green button anyway.
“Hey, baby girl.”
“Don’t youbaby girlme!” she screeches, and I pull the phone away from my ear, my stomach dropping while anxiety claws at my throat. “How could you?!”
“Slow down, Arrie. What are you talking about?”
“Are you seriously doing this to me dad? Want to lie to me again?”
I don’t want to believe the unthinkable has happened, but with Dottie up and leaving, and Arrie on the phone sobbing, it’s too much of a coincidence.
“Where are you, Arrie?”
“I just left Mum’s. Tell me it isn’t true.”
I swallow, close my eyes and squeeze the bridge of my nose, a tension headache setting in.
“Arrie, I need you to listen to me, baby. I’m going to stop past your house before I head to see Archie.”
“No! You can’t come here,” she rushes out, defensively. “Plus, I’m already on my way.”
The line goes dead, and I throw my phone.
“FUCK!”
Rushing over to where my phone clattered to the ground, I pull up Dottie’s number again and call. It goes straight to voicemail again, and my heart sinks. This cannot be happening. I can’t have her and then lose her in the space of twenty-four hours.
I lose count of how many times I try and call Dottie, but when the front door slams, I admit defeat and put my phone down, walking out to find Arrie sitting in the kitchen.
Her green eyes lock with mine, and my heart fucking shatters on impact. Instead of the vivacious green they normally are, they’re muddied and bloodshot. She lets out a strangled sob and shakes her head.
“How could you, dad?”
“I’m going to need you to be specific, Arrie.”
The melancholy that was surrounding her dissolves, morphing into anger.
