Page 8 of Hot and Bothered
Evan went to a small cabinet in the living room and opened one of the drawers. He rummaged around then pulled out something black and rectangular.
“Here you go,” he said as he held it out to me. “You can use one of my old phones.”
I took it carefully.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“I’m not using it,” he shrugged easily. “There’s no cell plan on it, but at least you can use the wifi for now.”
“Thank you.” I held the phone gingerly in my hand, as if I was afraid he would change his mind and snatch it away at the last second.
“Now you can message or email whoever you need to,” he said.
“I really appreciate this,” I told him.
“It’s no problem,” he said.
I stared down at the phone, running my thumb over the black screen. I still didn’t know if I wanted to be in contact with anyone. I could just imagine what my mom or, god forbid, my sister would say. Threats and ultimatums would be the least of it.
I still hadn’t decided what I was going to do.
Could I go back? Should I go back? Was it best if I just did what everyone expected of me?
Could I leave everything I’d ever known behind? Should I try to strike out on my own and live life on my own terms? Did I even know how?
I knew talking to my mother or sister would tip the scales. I’d never been able to stand up to them.
My heart raced. My forehead beaded with cold sweat.
“I don’t know…” I said quietly.
“You can block them after you send the message, if you don’t think you can deal with hearing from anyone,” he said.
Evan came up to me and put a comforting hand on my shoulder. He ducked down to meet my eyes straight on. He was so tall he had to hunch over. A familiar earthy-sweet scent filled the air. His hair fell past his ears and over his forehead as he looked down at me.
“Your wellbeing comes first,” he said. “Okay?”
My heart swelled in my chest as we stood face to face.
“Okay,” I repeated, clutching the phone to my chest.
His words touched something within me. Something that had been cold and dark for years, but was now starting to feel a spark of sunlight.
As much as I’d been taken care of my whole life, I’d never once feltcared for.
Until now.
4
Although I was nervous on the drive to the bar, the fluttering in my stomach was mostly from worry and the uncertainty of what I was getting myself into.
It wasn’t until I walked through the front door that I realized there was another reason to feel queasy.
It wasn’t as if I’d completely forgotten about my behavior the previous night, but after a shower and a change of clothes I’d begun to feel like a new woman.
However, the instant I walked in and saw that now familiar bar counter and the pretty girl standing behind it, humiliation and nausea returned in full force.
Lizzy, which I now knew to be the name of the girl at the bar, didn’t look up when we entered. She was standing at the cash register with a line between her brows as she stabbed a finger rapidly against the screen. There was a man standing behind her, practically looming as he watched over her shoulder. His expression was equally stymied.
