Page 35 of Wreckage of Me
“Did you get a vasectomy?” I give him all the sass I can muster. “That’s a procedure that would prevent your sperm from making a baby with my eggs,” I explain in a snotty tone.
His stricken look tells me everything I need to know. “Fuck.”
“Yeah, asshole,” I nod, “fuck.”
“But you’re safe, right?” I can hear the hope in voice, and I want to punch his lights out.
“Why would you just assume that I’m safe? Why is it only my responsibility to make sure that I don’t get pregnant?”
I am so mad right now, I can’t think straight. Coincidentally, no, I’mnot safe. So now I have to come up with some sort of plan, one that includes me staring at my calendar to see what’s what, and also praying really hard.
I finally push myself off him, and he lets me. He is in obvious shock right now, and I got nothing to tell him that would make him feel any better. Actually, I don’t even want to make him feel better. Why would I? He didn’t have any issues ripping me to shreds and throwing me out like yesterday’s garbage six months ago, as I was going crazy trying to help him, mind you. What a fuckin’ asshole, man.
“Becca,” he tries to grab me by the hand, but I am so done here. All of a sudden, I feel exhausted, and I remember that I worked a long shift. On top of that, it’s late at night. I also feel dirty, filthy, and not even in a good way. I need my house where I can take a hot shower, slip into clean clothes and think about what the hell this was.
“You need to leave now,” I tell him without looking at him.
I have no idea where in the hell he could go. We’re sitting in the back seat of my car, on a dark street in a quiet neighborhood, and he doesn’t have any mode of transportation. He could get arrested if he got caught walking around in the dark like that. That reminds me…
“Did you escape out of prison?”
“What?” He has the nerve to crack a smile.
“Last time I saw you, you were being charged with murder. How are you here now? Are you a fugitive?”
He watches me for a few seconds, a barely there smile taking over his full lips. He’s got perfect lips, I notice with disdain. Mine are thin and pathetic, and he’s got the nerve to sit here with full lips. After everything he did to me.
“No, Bex,” he shortens my already shortened name like he did back when we spent that week together back in his hometown of Texas. “They, uh,” he hesitates, “they cleared me.”
“Are you sure?” I squint my eyes at him, eyeing him suspiciously. I’m not falling for his bullshit again.
Although, I do have to admit to myself that he never really promised me anything. I just assumed that… I just assumed.
“Can I take you home now?” he touches my knee so gently, almost like he worries that I’ll jump out of the car and run out into the dark night.
I roll my head against the headrest behind me and just stare at him. He looks so handsome in the light of a nearby lamppost. If these were different circumstances, I’d feel so lucky to have him pursue me like this. Then again, I have no idea if pursuing is what he’s doing.
“Why did you come here?” I ask, a lot calmer this time. I have no energy to fight with him.
“I told you why, Bex.” God, why do I love,love, the way he says my name? The way he looks at me? The intensity of his gaze makes me feel like I’m the most important person in the world to him.
“You just said that you’re herefor me.” It takes me a second to even remember what the hell happened before he fucked me senseless. Twice. “But why?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “A lot has happened in the last six months, babe.”
“Are you here with your…” I hesitate, not wanting to call it a gang, even though that’s what I consider this organization he’s part of. I finally settle on, “Club?”
“The club is gone,” he says with an impassive tone. “My father, the prez,” he explains when I’m just staring at him without a word, “he’s dead now.”
“Oh my God!” I am suddenly more awake and energized, his piece of information snapping me out from the exhaustion of the day at work, then the activities from the last few minutes. “I am so sorry! Are you okay?”
When my parents died, I was devastated. I felt like the world as I knew it was over. I believe that a lot of it had to do with the fact that I lost both of them at the same time, but I can imagine that losing just one parent can be just as painful. I know it was for Emily when her mom passed.
That’s why I am shocked to my bones when I see Dylan’s face stretching into a happy smile. It makes him look younger and worry free somehow.
“I’ve never been better. Wrecker died that night, too,” he adds in a softer, but still happy, tone.
“I don’t understand…” I shake my head in confusion.
