Page 33 of Taylor
A smile breaks across my face. It would be impossible if I wanted to try to play it cool right now, because I have no control over myjoy.
“You’re asking me to move in withyou?”
“Yep,” heconfirms.
“Fucking right I will,” I announce before dropping my case and pulling him so we’re chest to chest. The kiss I give him is entirely too inappropriate to be happening in the middle of an airport, but I couldn’t care less. After two and a bit years of trying to break him down, I’ve finally done it. I knew he wanted me allalong.
I’m flying high all the way back to our flat. My smile hasn’t faltered, much to Caleb’s amusement. Unfortunately though, everything comes crashing down very fast when we look up to our frontdoor.
Our usual sleek black shiny door with chrome fittings is now boarded up with some police tape strapped acrossit.
“What the fuck?” we both ask in unison before rushingforward.
I don’t wait for any instruction or even think of any consequences as I launch myself at the wood covering ourdoor.
The force of my body smashes through it easily and I get a look at what isbeyond.
“Fuck,”is all I can say as I look at our trashed apartment. Everything’s either smashed, ripped apart or turnedover.
“Fuck,” gets repeated behind me as Caleb gets his first look at all his stuff. I may call it our flat, but in reality, everything in here is his. I just help pay therent.
We both walk into the room and silently take in the devastation beforeus.
“You’re back,” I hear someone say from the doorway. When I turn around, I see it’s our neighbour. “We tried to get hold of you both but neither of your phones wereon.”
“We were at a wedding in Paris,” I say when it becomes clear Caleb isn’t going to respond. “Whathappened?”
“No idea. I came back in yesterday evening and saw that your door was swinging on its hinges. I called the police; they sorted this out,” he says, gesturing towards the boarded up door. “But they really need to speak to you both. They said they didn’t think anything was missing. The obvious things like your TV and computer are still here—a little worse for wear, mind you.” I look over at where the fifty-inch TV usually sits to see it all bent and buckled on thefloor.
“Who the fuck?” Caleb mutters quietly to himself as he looks at all hisstuff.
A face pops into myhead.
“MOTHERFUCKER!”
I pull my phone from my pocket and try to power it up, but it’s fucking dead. After rummaging through my case, I find the charger and plug it into the wall. After a few seconds, it starts up and I scroll through my contacts until I find the number for the phone I gave mymum.
It doesn’t ring. It goes straight tovoicemail.
“FUCK,” I shout again, just about resisting the urge to launch my phone across the room. It’s already broken enough from the last time I tried that. “I’m so sorry,” I say sadly to Caleb, who is looking at meblankly.
“It’s not your fault,” he saysreassuringly.
“It is, though. It’s fuckinghim,I know it is. I brought this to you.” I rub my hands over my short hair before running them down myface.
I take a step back until my arse hits the wall. I lower and put my head in my hands. Caleb decides he wants me, and this is what I give him. He doesn’t deserve this; he’s too good for me. I’m a walking fuckingdisaster.
“Here,” our neighbour says, reminding me that we’ve got an audience. “The coppers said for you to call this number when youreturned.”
I watch as he backs out of the flat, leaving usalone.
“I’m sorry,” Irepeat.
Caleb walks over to me before lowering on to his haunches. “Stop that. It’s not yourfault.”
“Yes it is. If it wasn’t for me and my fucked up family, this wouldn’t behappening.”
“Stop it,” he snaps, his anger surfacing. “If it washim, his actions are nothing to do withyou.”
