I finish cleaning with tears streaming down my face. I wipe the tears when I finish and then splash some cold water on my face. Walking to the bedroom, I see he’s already sleeping, so I grab the phone from the bed and see that I have a text message.
Justin: Where are you?
I don’t answer him. Instead, I close the window just a bit and get into the shower. After peeling off my tank top, I step under the cold water, but the pressure is nonexistent. My eyes burn from all the tears, and when they finally stop, I get out. After putting on the same clothes, I open the bathroom door and check on Dylan, who is sleeping like a starfish. I walk over to the drawer and take out the white loose-leaf paper I’ve been working on for five years now. I walk to the table with it in my hand, my arm feeling like it’s carrying a thousand pounds. I walk over and turn on the faucet to fill a glass of water, and for once, I wish it was something stronger. Walking to the bedroom, I grab my phone and see that five more texts have come through, but I don’t even want to read them.
I sit at the little brown table that isn’t steady since one leg is a touch shorter than the other. Unfolding the white paper that is starting to be yellow, I make sure not to tear it where the creases are.
On the top of the page in the middle is Debt list, and under it is the amount I still owe: $17,405. That is what I still have to pay to the five credit cards that Andrew took out in my name that have been closed and sent into collections, and no matter how sorry they feel for me, they can’t do anything about it. The interest will go up now that I will have to stop the payments. Rubbing my head, I ignore the ringing phone, looking up just in time to catch Justin’s name. I shake my head and decline the call. I had actually put it on airplane mode before, but Dylan must have turned it off while he was watching videos.
It rings again, and I just take a deep sigh and decline it. When it happens four more times, I’m about to decline it again when I hear a soft knock on the door. I get up, not even sure who it could be, and when I open it slowly, Justin’s standing there. “Do you know how long I’ve been trying to get in touch with you?” he asks me and storms right into my apartment. I stand here with the door in my hand. He turns to face me, and I have to take him in. His hat is finally off, and you see his long black hair on the top but then short on the sides. “I have been calling and calling. I swear I was about to contact the hospitals.”
“What are you doing here?” Is the only thing that I can say. “How did you know which apartment I lived in?”
“You filled it out on the application,” he says, and he looks around, and I have to wonder if he is judging me because of the apartment. I know it’s not much, and his closet is probably the size of my whole apartment, but it’s clean, and it’s ours. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?” His eyes are now on mine, and I see that his jaw is tight.
“I didn’t get them,” I say, closing the door and closing my eyes before turning around and getting ready to lie out of my ass.
“Really?” he says, never once blinking. “So the four times I just called and you didn’t answer, you didn’t hear?”
“How …?” I ask, and he holds up his hand.
“I’ve been standing outside your door for the past thirty minutes,” he says. “I didn’t hear anything, so I called.” He puts his hands on his hips. “I thought something happened to you.”
“Well, as you can see, we are fine,” I say, ignoring the fact that my heart just skipped when he said he was worried about me. I don’t think anyone has ever worried about me. “So if that was all you came here for …” I’m about to tell him he can go when there is another knock on the door, and this time, it’s not soft like his was. Suddenly, my neck starts to burn, and my heart beats faster for a whole different reason. “Were you expecting someone?” he asks, and I just shake my head. He must see that my hands are shaking when he walks past me and opens the door, coming face-to-face with a man who I knew it would be only a matter of time until he paid me another visit.
“Who are you?” he asks, and he makes my skin crawl. I spot him dressed up in his usual camo pants and white T-shirt and a jean jacket. He is wearing a jean jacket to probably hide the fact he has a gun tucked into the back of his pants. He looks over Justin, spotting me, and calls my name. “Caroline.”
“Can I help you with something?” Justin says, and Vince laughs and looks down and then up.
“He isn’t here,” I say, walking to the door and trying to stand in front of Justin, but he puts his arm out and stops me from standing in front of him.
“Where is he?” Vince looks at me.
“I don’t know,” I say softly.
“He owes me five large,” he says, and I close my eyes. “Took off with some of my shit.”
“Well, he isn’t here,” I say again.
“That doesn’t help you,” Vince says.
“Well, I guess she tried,” Justin now says.
“This puts me in a difficult situation,” Vince says. “I’ll drop by tomorrow.” He turns and walks away, and I sigh that he didn’t say anything else. But now that he’s walked away, Justin closes the door.
“I’m sorry,” I say, walking to the table and picking up the glass of water that is shaking in my hand, “that you had to be here for that.” I turn and face him.
“What would have happened if I wasn’t here?” he asks, and I just look at him. “Say it,” he hisses out.
“I would have to come up with the money, which”—I throw my hands up—“is what I’m going to have to do anyway,” I say, and at that moment, I’ve never regretted anything more in my life.
Chapter Nine
Justin
This is not a good idea. I need to calm down before we continue this conversation. The meeting was a clusterfuck to end all clusterfucks. I was so angry because I was worried about Caroline and Dylan, and I had no idea why I was so uptight. It was like my body was one nerve, and everything that was said wrong just set me off. I kept checking my phone and sending Caroline texts but never got any answers.
When I got in the truck, I didn’t even realize that I was driving toward her apartment until I got on the highway and approached her building, and then I pulled up her application and got her address. Walking into the apartment building, I hated every single second I was in there. There was yelling going on in one apartment, and I could swear I heard the sound of someone getting smacked, but I had one goal and that was to make sure she was okay. When I got to her door, I looked down at the rinky-dink knob, and my blood started to boil. She shouldn’t live here; they shouldn’t live here. I listened and called her phone and heard it ringing and then stop. After the fifth time, I just knocked on the door, and when I saw her standing there looking like she’d been crying again, my heart stopped. All I wanted to do was take her in my arms and tell her that no matter what, it would be okay.
But instead, what I did do was barge in and demand to know why she didn’t answer my calls. Then that knock on the door had my heart sinking because I thought she had a man. She had a man to protect her, and here I was standing in the middle of the room secretly hoping she’d want me to protect her.