Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
RAINE
I plugged Everett’s number into my phone, replacing the contact information I had for my gynecologist. It’s stupid, but I didn’t know what else to do. It’s not like I could save it under his name. Not without poking the bear. The only reason Drake didn’t entirely lose his shit after Everett’s bold-faced lie at the LAU arena about us having a relationship for the past three months is because I don’t have a passcode on my phone, and he checks it on occasion. If he finds Everett’s name in my contacts now, he’ll never let it go. My body feels heavy as I take the stairs toward my apartment while my wary thoughts go haywire at the possibility of someone reaching out to Drake and telling him about Everett’s visit.
I wasn’t kidding when I told Everett Cedar Springs is a small town. My only hope is no one saw me talking with him and relayed their findings. It’s not like Drake has eyes and ears everywhere, waiting to catch me doing something I shouldn’t. But even so, lying to Drake is always dangerous. Lying about something like this when the wounds are still fresh? It’s practically begging for an explosion .
As I push the door open, I find Drake relaxing on the couch with his feet on the coffee table. ESPN plays on the television screen, and a bag of chips rests on the cushion beside him.
“Hey,” I call out, hoping he can’t hear the tremor in my voice.
Drake glances over the back of the gray couch. “Hey.”
I head toward him and sit on the arm of the sofa. “How’s the game?”
“Two to one.” He presses the mute button on the remote.
I want to squirm from his full attention but keep my expression blank, unsure what to say or do or…anything. Does he know? Has anyone told him about Everett’s visit? Did he see him walk in or out of Eternal?
“I got you flowers,” he murmurs.
“You did?”
“Yeah. Chocolates, too.” He smiles. “They’re on the counter.”
“Oh.” Sure enough, a dozen red roses are in a glass vase next to a box of chocolates. It’d be a sweet gesture if I didn’t know what love-bombing is. The irony isn’t lost on me. How I know all the signs, yet I’m still here. My family would be so ashamed.
“You’re not going to say thank you?” he challenges.
Turning back to Drake, I force a smile. “Thank you.”
“You're welcome.” He brings my hand to his lips and kisses the back of it. “I also figured out how you can make it up to me.”
It.
There are so many its in the world. Nailing down which one he’s referring to is hard, so I keep my fake smile firmly in place. “Oh?”
“Yeah.” He grabs my knee. “There’s a party tomorrow. I want you to go with me. ”
My brows dip. “A party?”
“Yeah. I think it’ll be good for us to get out. Maybe have some fun. Reconnect.” His grasp on my fingers tightens. It isn’t uncomfortable. Honestly, it’s almost sweet, and my pathetic heart flutters at the memory of how things used to be. Before his mom died. Before his dad started coming around again. Before his possessiveness became overwhelming, and I couldn’t justify the red flags anymore. I’m not stupid. I know how abusive relationships work. I know it’s a slippery slope, and I know if they hit you once, they'll hit you again.
Why’d you have to hit me, Drake?
Granted, he hit me because I was trying to break up with him, so it’s not like things were perfect until the incident. But still. Before, I felt like I could end things if I could scrounge up the courage to leave despite the inconveniences accompanying said decision. And yes, I know how ridiculous it sounds. Convenience has kept me here for so long it’s laughable. Well, convenience and empathy and memories of when things were better, along with the hope they could be better again if I simply…waited. Joke’s on me, I guess. I’m so ingrained in every piece of his life that I really shouldn’t have been surprised when he refused to let me go. When he not only threw a fit but hit me, then threatened to kill himself if I even thought about leaving him again. The reminder makes it hard to breathe. Hard to keep my fake smile in place as I stare at his hand engulfing mine. I glance at the flowers again and let out a soft breath, forcing my lungs to work.
Why’d you have to get me flowers, Drake? Why’d you have to make me second-guess everything? Again. Flowers don’t exactly fix it all. But he’s trying. I was terrified about what would happen after my first encounter with Everett and his bold-faced lie. Instead of ripping my head off, Drake told me he trusted me. It was…strange. Seeing a glimpse of th e man I fell for. But instead of finding it comforting, it’s dizzying trying to keep up with him and his mood swings. Like if I’m patient enough, he’ll come back. Drake will come back. My Drake. Not this stranger I sleep next to.
“What do you think?” he prods. “You said you love me, remember?”
“I do.”
“Good. I love you, too. Fuck, I’d die without you, Raine. You know I would.”
“I know,” I whisper.
“I know you do.” He smiles and kisses my hand again when my phone rings in my purse.
As if it’s personally offended him, Drake scowls at my purse hanging off my shoulder. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know.” My nerves kick up a notch until I remember I never gave Everett my number. I only have his. It’s fine. “Let me check.” Slowly, I open my purse and find my phone.
“Who is it?” he demands again without even giving me a chance to read the name on the screen.
A familiar picture greets me. Weathered face. Tan skin. Crinkles around his eyes. It feels like it’s been forever since I’ve seen him and my mom. Penelope, my older sister, moved away when she got married a few years ago, and Dodger, my older brother, is busy touring the country with his band. But my parents? They don’t live very far away, yet I haven’t really seen them in…a few months now? How is that even possible? Shame licks at my gut, and I suck my lips between my teeth as I stare at the photo.
“Raine?” Drake demands.
“It’s my dad.”
“Of course it is.” He chuckles darkly. “He always calls at the worst fuckin’ times.” Unmuting the television, he turns back to the game and grabs a chip from the bag while I sit on the arm of the couch and send the call to voicemail. I shouldn’t. I’ve avoided him for too long, but the idea of facing him, of showing him who his little girl turned into and all of the shitty decisions she’s made despite his and my mom’s awesome parenting, let alone the consequences which could follow if they found out about everything?
No, thank you. Not until I can figure out how to get out of this.
I let out a slow, unsteady breath, stand, tuck my phone into my back pocket, and wipe my sweaty palms against my jeans. “I’m going to shower. I’ll be out in a few.”
“Uh-huh.”