“About that…” He hesitated as he looked out into the deserted darkness. “I’m pretty sure we just gave your ex a show.”
CHAPTER 16
The fuller the fridge, the more energy efficient it is.
-Text from Iris to Shine
IRIS
The last thing I wanted to do was leave.
In fact, if I had to choose two things that I didn’t want to do, they would’ve been getting out of the bed that I was sharing with Callum. Followed by having to shower his smell off of my skin.
After saying our goodbyes at the road, I watched as he rode away on his motorcycle, tingles of excitement in places that wouldn’t get attention for the next few days.
I was just turning around to head to my car when a hand curled around my wrist and squeezed.
“You need to be careful with him,” Teller growled.
I gasped and yanked, but he didn’t let go of my hand.
“Let go!” I ordered.
He squeezed me just tight enough that I knew I wasn’t getting away if he didn’t want me to, but loose enough that he wasn’t hurting me if I didn’t struggle.
“You need to listen to me, Iris,” he ordered harshly. “That man isn’t the nice guy you think he is.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?”
I tugged again on my hand, and this time he let me go, knowing he had my attention. “I’m trying to tell you that that man you think you like? The one that you let fuck you in front of a window last night knowing I was there? He’s bad news.”
I would’ve rolled my eyes had he not been utterly serious, which made my stomach clench slightly.
What did I know of Callum?
I mean, other than he was nice, funny, sexy, and sweet?
“He’s a killer, Iris,” he said. “Nobody has been able to prove it but… he’s bad.”
Now that I didn’t believe.
“What are you even talking about right now?” I challenged.
“I’m talking about the fact that you are dating a man you don’t even know,” he snapped. “You’re fucking him, and you’re letting this biker into your life, and when you’re ready to scrape him off, he won’t go as easily or as nicely as I went.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yeah. You sure went nicely.”
He gritted his teeth. “I’m just trying to protect you. I’ve had some things happen at work lately.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
So I didn’t.
“You need to be careful with him,” he urged. “Trust me on this.”
I sighed. “There are a lot of things that I can deal with but made-up shit isn’t one of them.”
“I’m not making anything up,” he promised. “I swear.”
“Then you’re going to have to give me some more concrete evidence than ‘he’s bad. Stay away from him,’” I pointed out. “Because right now, it just sounds like you’re a nut who can’t let things go.”
Teller crossed his arms over his chest. “I don’t really care if you believe me or not. But just sayin’, it’s your funeral.”
Then he left, leaving me with way more questions than answers.
Sadly, I didn’t have time to do anything.
I had time to get in my car and drive to my parents’ house.
The two-hour drive, I thought about nothing but Callum.
Even when I turned on the radio, every single song reminded me of him.
Meaning, when I got to my parents’ house and found it completely devoid of people, despite the copious number of cars in the driveway, I wasn’t happy.
I’d just spent two hours driving, on my one day off, and they weren’t there.
Not to mention that I had a whole lot of things that I could do at my own place.
Like the laundry that I hadn’t touched in a week, or the bills that were piling up, waiting for me to pay.
I was a check girl.
I didn’t put any of my information online—and that included paying bills. So, like my paranoid father, I made sure to always keep as much of my life off-line as I could.
Which meant the inconvenience of writing checks and sending stuff snail mail.
“Where are y’all?” I wondered as I started to move through the house.
I found all of their stuff—my sister’s suitcase, and my mom’s Kindle e-reader that she was never away from, and my brother’s car keys.
But no family.
That’s when I pulled out my phone.
We had an app that we used when we couldn’t find each other.
Pulling it up, I waited.
When it finally loaded, I looked at everyone’s location and felt my stomach drop.
My mom. My dad. My sister. My brother. And even my brother’s wife were all at one of my favorite restaurants. Without me.
Irrational hurt swept through me, but I decided to try to give them the benefit of the doubt.
Bringing up the home screen on my phone, I cued up the group text and thought about what I was going to say.
I realized eventually that I wasn’t going to get rid of the anger and decided to just write what I wanted to write to the group text that I had going with my entire family.
Me: Where is everyone?
Anderson: Eating.
Me: Where?
Anderson: why are you asking?
Me: Because the house is empty, and I literally drove two hours, and I can’t find y’all. Even though y’all were the ones to invite me over.
Mom: Um, we didn’t think you were coming.
Me: I come every Sunday, Mother. Why would you think I wasn’t coming?
Dad: Because it was getting on noon, and you weren’t here yet.
I was getting angrier by the second.
Me: Maybe because I had to work yesterday, go home, and grab a spare change of clothes before coming back? And it takes me an hour extra to get here when I have to work the night before, remember?
Dad: oh, yeah.
I shoved my phone back into my purse, angry and hurt. Even more, I was upset that they hadn’t waited. Why hadn’t they waited?
I pulled my phone back out on a whim and looked at my phone before deciding, fuck it.
I texted Callum.
Me: I miss you.
Callum: I miss you, too.
I sighed and went back to being hurt.
The text didn’t help.
In fact, I think it only hurt, because now I wanted to cry on top of being angry with my family.
I drove around town for a while, pissed off and wondering what to do. In the end, after an entire hour of being upset, I drove to the restaurant, and when I got inside, I glanced around, wondering if I could see them from the hostess stand.
And, sure enough, there they all were, in the middle of the restaurant, all eating and laughing without me.
The hostess came back up to the stand, her eyes frowning hard.
“Didn’t I…” She looked at the table where my family was sitting, then back to me with confusion.
I ignored the question that I knew was on the tip of her tongue and shrugged.
“Can I have that table right there? The one by the window?” I asked, feeling hurt start to leach into my throat.
Normally it took a really long time to get into the restaurant, but there were always tables for two—or, when I saw them, one person—because the restaurant owner felt like there should never be a wait for someone that had less than two.