Page 55 of Savage Hate
I frown at the screen and wait for him to go to voicemail.
Two weeks ago, I would’ve answered. I maybe even would’ve believed whatever he was going to tell me, whatever lie he had concocted. But right now? I’m just pissed off. I go into his contact details and block him, and then I delete his voicemail without listening.
Growth.
Smiling, I hide my phone in the drawer of the desk.
The night seems to drag on, and every few minutes or so, one of the guys catches my eye. First, it’s Silas, and I have to look away from his tight, dark blue shirt as he winks at me, pulling his latex gloves over his strong hands. Then it’s Damon as his hand trails across the back of my chair when he walks over, asking about his next client. I have to close my eyes and shake my head to get myself back in the mindset ofworking.Last, it’s Jude, who watches me from the corner of the studio, his tousled, copper hair hanging in front of his forehead. I can feel his eyes on the back of my neck.
I am in trouble, but I’m not even sure that I care.
My phone buzzes in the drawer, but I don’t check it for the rest of the night. Wright can go fuck himself for all I care, and I don’t want to hear what he has to say. I’m sure he figured out a way to contact me from another phone. I might have to change my number, because I never want to speak or hear from him again.
I’m sitting on Jude’s chair when the door jangles at nearly two in the morning. I locked it after the last client left, and we’re all drinking beer and talking about the cake I brought in a couple of days ago. My eyes fly to the person standing outside, and I drop the glass bottle on the concrete floor when I see the familiar face watching me in the dark.
“Who the fuck is that?” Damon asks, setting his bottle down and standing.
I’m too stunned to speak. I stay frozen, ignoring the broken glass all over the floor.
“Lennon,” Silas says sternly.
I clear my throat and look at him. “It’s Wright. My ex.”
“Well, shit,” Damon says, a smile playing on his lips.
“What is he doing here?” I hiss, just as Wright knocks on the door.
“Lennon? Can we talk?” he asks from behind the glass. He’s wearing a suit, because of course. He’s nevernotwearing a suit, except when he’s at the gym. I don’t even think he owns a pair of jeans.
“We can tell him to leave,” Jude suggests, his eyes on Wright.
What the hell is he doing here? How did he find me?
“No, it’s fine.” I look down at the glass. “Sorry, I’ll clean that up.”
“On it,” Damon says before I can move, quickly heading to the closet.
I’m too distracted to thank him as I walk to the door, unlocking it and holding it open for my ex-fiancé.
“What are you doing here?” I ask on a sigh, reluctantly letting him inside.
“Me?” He storms in, twisting around to face me as the front door swings shut. “What the hell areyoudoing here?” He looks behind me at the guys.
“I work here.” Crossing my arms, I take a step back. “How did you find me?”
He runs a hand through his short brown hair. “I’ve been trying to call you all day, Lennon.”
I look behind me, and without another word, Silas directs the guys into the back alley to give Wright and I some privacy. Damon scoops the last of the glass up with the broom before following Jude and Silas out.
I spin around to face Wright again. “Why have you been trying to call me?”
He reaches out for my hands, but I pull them away, taking another step back.
“I–I’m sorry. Okay? I realize I look like a complete ass–”
“Yeah, you do.”
My words startle him. I never talked back before, never pushed against his ideals and his gaslighting. I just took everything in stride without question.
