* * *
Annie’s money
* * *
“My money?” I whisper, rubbing my thumb over my name. “No. That can’t be… He wouldn’t. He—”
Dropping the stack, I leave the bag on the bed and dash back to the diner, ignoring Celia’s question and racing up the stairs.
Am I all right?
Of course I’m not all right!
The guy I’ve fallen in love with is a thief.
I mean, I think he is.
“Please don’t be,” I whisper under my breath, flinging the apartment door open and charging for my room.
Dean’s not at the table, thank God.
I don’t want him seeing me and asking what’s wrong.
I can’t talk right now.
I can barely breathe.
Lunging into my room, I scramble under my bed for my savings jar. My worst fears are realized as I pull it out to find it completely empty.
Even the coins are gone.
He must have stashed those someplace else.
Dammit!
How did he even know it was here?
“He made my bed.” I slump onto my butt, hating myself for thinking that was so sweet.
He snuck in here and made my bed, and then he stole my money!
All that scrimping and saving. He knew how hard I was working!
How could he do this to me?
I trusted him.
Rage bubbles in my belly, a swift fury rising up my throat and making every muscle in my body vibrate.
Jumping to my feet, I storm out of the apartment, thundering down the stairs and back out into the rain.
I’m gonna tell Michael exactly what he can do with my money.
And then he can get the hell out of this place and never come back!
37
A Slap in the Face
I race around the back of the diner and wonder if I should stop in the garage first. I’m soaked, and a fresh, dry T-shirt might help in getting through what I have to say to Annie.
The lunch rush is over, and we’ll be closing up for the afternoon soon. The minute we clock out, I’ll pull her aside and start the conversation.
The dreaded conversation.
Shit, what is she going to think of me?
Can I convince her to cut and run?
We could pick up Jackson from the bus and just keep driving. I’ll need to talk fast to get it all out. Time is not on our side with this one.
But if I can—
“THIEF!”
I spin at the harsh yell, my eyes bulging when I see Annie storming through the rain. Her eyes are bright with anger and her fists are clenched at her side.
“You damn thief!” She raises her fists and starts pummeling my chest.
“Annie, stop.” I grab her wrists, but she wrenches free of my grasp and pushes me hard in the chest.
I take a step back, horrified into silence by the venomous look on her face.
“I trusted you!” she screams.
Raising my hands, I try to bring a little calm into this crazy-ass situation. “Annie. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You told me you didn’t deserve that bullet!” She points at the garage. “But there’s a bag of money in your room that tells me you’re a liar! You stole it! Didn’t you?”
I can’t speak for a second.
The rain hits my face, running down my cheeks in a torrent of tears.
“Didn’t you?” she screams again, lurching forward and pushing my chest.
She rebounds right off me, and I look to the ground, heartsick at this reaction. She obviously despises thieves. Hates what I’ve done.
Even if I told her everything now, she probably wouldn’t want anything to do with me.
And she’s right. She deserves more than what I am.
She deserves a knight in freaking armor to take her away from this place. Not some scrappy, homeless thief.
“And you stole from me.” Her voice cracks.
The accusation makes my head jerk up.
What does she mean by that?
Is it some kind of metaphor?
I shake my head, begging her to understand that I’d never do anything to hurt her.
“Annie, please. I don’t—”
“Shut up.” She shakes her head, her anger giving way to a heartache and betrayal that is so much worse. “Just get out. Leave this place. I don’t want you here anymore.”
“Annie, come on, ple—”
“Get out!” she screams, blinking at the rain hitting her face and pointing toward the driveway. “Take your thievin’ ass out of this town right now!”
“Annie, you—”
“I know what you did, and I want you to LEAVE!”
“Please, just let me explain. I didn’t—”
She growls and comes toward me again, pushing my chest and pounding me with her pigeon fists. “I trusted you! I let you in!”
I try to grab her wrists and slow her attack. I need her to hear me, to give me a chance to explain that I don’t want to be a bad person. I never did. I just got caught in a life I couldn’t get out of.
But she’s right.
I am a—
“Thief! Liar!” The words come out like sobs. “I never want to see you again.” She wrenches herself away from me, stumbling back into a puddle.
The muddy water bounces up onto her legs. I watch the brown dribbles trickle into her socks and wish I could move to comfort her. I want to take her in my arms and carry her away from this place.
“Please don’t do this,” I rasp. “Please. I want to help you.”
“I can look after myself!”
I step toward her, my arms outstretched. “Annie, please.”
She bats my hands away, her blue eyes stone cold and kind of scary. “Get away from me. You don’t touch me. You don’t look at me. I want you gone!”
“No. Come with me. Let’s get out of here. We can grab Jackson, and we can go—”
Her slap comes out of nowhere, but it’s lightning fast and cracks me right across the cheek. The wet sting leaves me reeling for a second, but it’s her words that kill me.
“I wouldn’t go anywhere with you. You lyin’ thief! You betrayer!” Her words morph into sobs again, and she covers her mouth with her hand, bolting back into the diner.
I stand in the rain, letting it soak me to the bone.
My hair sticks to my face, the cold droplets running down my body.
I wish it could somehow cleanse me. Take away what I did.
But Annie won’t even give me a chance to tell her the truth.
She doesn’t understand, and I’ve got a sinking feeling that she won’t ever let me explain.
Is this it?
I’m just leaving without her?
The idea sits like a stone in my belly.
But I don’t know what else to do.
She wants me gone.
38
A Personal Piece of Trash
The rain continues to hammer the roof, the windows, the ground… my soul.
I sit on my bed, clutching my empty savings jar against my chest. I’m still wet, and now my pillow and duvet are soaked too. I didn’t even take my shoes off. My sneakers have left two damp, muddy circles on the bed. And I don’t even care.