Page 121 of Infatuated as They Come
Chapter 30
Sawyer
It wasn’t the worst Christmas I had ever experienced. The year my mom left took the cake as the one that hurt the most, and then there was the year my dad hit me so hard I slammed my head on the corner of the coffee table, and there was also the one where I couldn’t afford to pay the electricity bill and what little food we had in the fridge went bad after the company cut our power off.
So, a Christmas spent in jail wasn’tthatbad. I got some water and if I was lucky, I’d get something to eat. Maybe it’d even be hot.
At least they put some decorations up. I could see some red and green tinsel pinned to the desk in front of me—the one I had to look at through the ugly, dull grey bars of the holding cell I was in.
It was all my fault, anyway. I had been trying so hard to make sure history didn’t repeat itself only for it to happen anyway. I had pushed Holly away from me, had been the reason for the wall between us, for the distance and that invisible bridge that was growing longer and longer. It was me who had been causing her loneliness, who was making sure she was sitting in that apartment all on her own. In our home. It was supposed to be ours. A place that was warm, a place where we were meant to make good memories, but all I had done was be the person who gave her bad ones.
I wondered if Holly was okay. I hoped all those drinks she had last night hadn’t done too much damage, that the bruise on her face didn’t hurt too much, that she knew how much I loved her. I rubbed my hands over myface and groaned loudly. I was tired. Tired of trying, tired of working, tired of not seeing her. But it was my fault. I was the problem. I was the fuck up.
I looked down at my ink-stained fingers, that dark color still remaining hours after they had taken my prints. It had been a while since I had been arrested, but the process had remained the same: mug shot, prints, the “you have one phone call” speech. There didn’t seem any point in calling anyone since Holly’s dad and the cops made sure my bail was denied.
It felt easier to just stay quiet, to sit on the uncomfortable blue metal seat and think about how badly I had fucked up everything with Holly. Last night had probably been my final chance to prove to her that I could do more than say, “I miss you”. That I could actually prove that I wanted her and us, that I’d prioritize her. She was over it. She was over me. History had repeated itself despite how hard I had been trying to change my future with Holly.
I buried my face in my hands. Fuck, I had tried. Trying wasn’t enough. She’d never want to see me again and I couldn’t even blame her for that.
There was a tap on the metal bar and some grumbling voices, and then I heard a sharp, “Westbrook, you’re free to go.”
My hands slowly lowered, eyeing the cop who had been behind the desk since I got in last night. “What?”
He curled his fingers at me. “Come on. You’re outta here.”
The clanking sound of metal hit my ears and then I was taken out of the cell and over to the front office. They handed me my stuff back, sliding my wallet over the desk and then my keys. The guy raised an eyebrow at me when he got sight of my little pom pom keychain, and I just gave him a shrug.
“What? My girlfriend gave it to me,” I said.
He scoffed and pointed to the door behind me. There was a loud buzzing noise and then I got the go ahead to push the heavy door open, and the second I did, the smell of lavender was in the air and I felt two arms wrap around my shoulders. Holly was standing on the tips of her toes, her face buried in my chest as she squeezed at me tight.
My own arms quickly circled around her, pulling her as close to meas I could get her. Maybe it had been the worst Christmas I had ever experienced, because those eleven hours without her had felt like pure hell. I squeezed her tighter, as tight as I could.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was muffled, her face pushed right up against me. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” I cupped the back of her head with one hand, my fingers moving through her hair softly. “It’s alright.”
“You hate me,” she said with a whimper, letting out the faintest of cries. “I don’t blame you if you do.”
“Don’t cry. You know I hate it when you cry.” I gave the top of her head a soft, lingering kiss. “And I don’t hate you.”
“You were inprisonon Christmas. This is all my fault.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not.”
“It’s fine.” Finally, I felt her pull away from me, letting me get sight of her wet, sad eyes and the bruise on her cheek. My heart sunk in a second flat. “You’re acting like I just finished up a ten year prison sentence.”
She sniffled and gave me a tiny laugh. “It feels like it…”
“Why don’t we get outta here, huh?” I asked, nodding to the door.
“Okay. Yeah, I don’t wanna be here any longer. Let’s go home. And then…” She fidgeted and breathed out shakily. “Let’s just get out of here.”
Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, I kept her tucked under my arm, and we walked out of that jail with me in my cheap suit and her in her pretty red dress. Despite it all, we still found each other. I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t and wouldn’t, and as we walked down the stairs to her car, I knew I had to change. Eleven hours without her had been a nightmare. I didn’t want to go elevenminuteswithout her. Saying I love you wasn’t enough anymore. I had to show her, I had to prove it.
I had to fight for her like she kept fighting for me.
