Chapter Twenty-Eight
I was cut off from the world. I’d been laying in a dark bedroom, curtains drawn, wondering what the outside world was up to. Were people conducting their business as usual? The whole world could have been turning upside down, and I would have been none the wiser.
I’d been home for the hospital for over forty-eight hours, and I was still without a phone and car. All that was in my fridge was a half-empty bottle of water and some yogurt. But it didn’t matter. My appetite had checked out. I had checked out.
I didn’t even know what time it was.
And if it weren’t for someone knocking on my door, I probably would have lain there forever…or until I’d gotten hungry again.
When I reached the living room, the knocking turned to pounding. Mischa slinked through my legs, meowing. When was the last time she’d eaten?
I didn’t bother to check the peephole. I’d already been assaulted by a total stranger. What were the odds that would happen twice in one week?
I swung the door open and felt the blood rush from my head when I saw who was on the other side.
Jacob’s eyes grew wide, and his mouth parted.
I attempted to slam the door shut.
“Wait,” he said, holding it open.
I leaned against the doorframe as the dizziness took over. “What are you doing here?” My voice was still hoarse from all the screaming.
“The dance studio called me. You didn’t show up for work, and they got worried. They said you haven’t missed a day since you started. I’m listed as your emergency contact.”
“Well, I’m alive, obviously, so no need to worry.” I tried to close the door again.
“Maeve,” he said, slamming his hand against the door. “What the hell happened to you?”
“I’m fine, Jacob.” I couldn’t lie to him and give him the car accident excuse. The words wouldn’t leave my mouth. It felt physically impossible. He probably wouldn’t believe that anyway.
“Can I come in?” His smoldering eyes pleaded with me.
I stared at him through the small opening of the threshold. “Fine.” My hand released its grip on the doorknob, and I headed to the kitchen to grab the cat food.
He took a quick look around the room, his hands planted on his hips. Was he looking for something?
“I’ve been calling you since last night,” he said.
Mischa meowed at his feet. He scooped her up and caressed her head.
“I lost my phone,” I said, refilling her food bowl.
“Where’s your car? I didn’t see it in the parking lot.”
Mischa jumped out of his arms when she smelled the food.
“I don’t have a car, either. It’s still at the club.”
He relaxed his arms, and I noticed a new tattoo on his forearm.
“This has something to do with work, doesn’t it?” he said.
I looked away from him and focused on the shag carpeting. My lack of response was enough admission for him.
He scoffed and shook his head. “Tell me what happened, Maeve. I want to know every fucking detail.”
My breath hitched in my throat, and I sat on the couch to keep from falling over.
“Another fight?” he asked.
“No,” I said.
“Not Doug?” He said it like that option was impossible.
“No way,” I sneered.
He started to pace the small room. “Worse?”
“Way worse.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Did someone do this to you on purpose?”
Our eyes met, and his pacing came to a halt.
“Dammit, Maeve. Did he—?”
“No.” He didn’t have to say it out loud. “I don’t think I would have gotten such a good beating if he’d gotten that far.”
“I can’t fucking believe this.”
“It’s not what you think, Jacob.” I picked at my cuticles. It was the first time in months that I craved a cigarette. “It’s my fault,” I said, the tears pricking my eyes. “I should have never—”
“Don’t ever say that again.” He settled next to me. “Ever. Do you understand me?”
I nodded.
Jacob took a deep breath. “Does he come to the club a lot?”
“No, I’d never seen him there before.” Goosebumps flushed over my skin. “He was from out of town. Texas, I think.”
“Did you call the cops, Maeve? I swear to God, if I see that fucker—”
“Come on, Jacob. You know better than anyone how useful cops will be. And I doubt he’ll ever show up to the club again…or anywhere on the east coast for that matter.”
He slumped into the couch. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“Not being there.”
I almost snorted. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. I told you I could take care of myself.”
We sat quietly in the gloominess of the surrounding space.
“Do you want a ride to get your car?” he finally said.
“Sure.”
During the car ride to the club, I didn’t know what to say, and I was pretty sure Jacob didn’t know, either.
He pulled into the parking lot, and I could barely open my eyes; they were still adjusting to the daylight. My car sat in the same spot where I’d left it. Why that surprised me, I had no idea. Maybe I wasn’t expecting it to still be there.
“Do you have the keys?” Jacob asked.
I pressed my head into the back of the seat, feeling like an idiot. “No, I don’t.”
“Do you think there’s someone inside?”
“I don’t see Sal’s car.”
“Maybe you should try, anyway.”
Jacob walked to the door with me, his gaze darting around the parking lot. It was like he expected whoever it was that did this to me to pop out of thin air and go for round two.
I knocked on the door, but I knew nobody would answer. It was only nine in the morning. Sal wouldn’t be here for another few hours.
“Maybe someone left the keys inside the car?” Jacob said.
I doubted it, but we checked anyway. My phone was lying on the ground, looking like it’d been crushed. Or run over. I picked up what was left of it. The car was locked, and I cupped my hands over the window to peek inside. A gust of wind blew back my hair.
