26. Back To Hurt
BACK TO HURT
FAITH
M y phone buzzes just as I step out of Ricky’s car. I ignore it. It’s late, I’m tired, and my feet feel like they’ve staged a rebellion.
“Thanks, Ricky,” I murmur, closing the door.
Cain’s in Salem tonight, meeting with a distributor, and somehow managed to rope Ricky into chauffeuring me home after my shift.
The phone buzzes again.
With a sigh, I pull it from my pocket and glance at the screen, standing just outside Ripley’s as Ricky’s taillights disappear down the street.
Cain: I love you. Don’t wait up for me. I’ll be in bed in thirty minutes tops.
I’m staying the night at his place. He insisted.
Since we made love a week ago, we’re…. I can’t even explain it. We’re…everything. It’s more than I could’ve imagined, even months ago, before our lives changed.
There’s another message on my phone. I open it even though it’s from an unknown number.
It’s a photo. It loads slowly.
It’s of Cain and me. We’re kissing right here in front of Ripley’s.
I look down at my dress, it’s a blue sundress, the same as in the photo. This was taken this morning.
I look around. I feel exposed.
I read the message that came with the photo and my heart hammers: Slut suits you, little whore.
My stomach turns sour. My fingers go cold.
There’s only one person who calls me little whore .
Jamie.
I breathe through my nose, trying to keep the panic down.
I forward the message to Cain. Someone took this photo; who could it be? Melody? Paula? I don’t know. Or Jamie himself because he’s here. I’m scared.
My phone rings almost immediately. I answer.
“It’s…it’s him, Cain,” I stammer.
“Where are you, sweet thing?” Cain sounds calm, but I know he isn’t. I can sense it.
“Ripley’s. I…Ricky just dropped me off.”
“Okay. Why don’t you go upstairs? And lock up, yeah? I’m home in less than thirty minutes.”
“Cain.”
“I’ve texted Kyle, he’s gonna be there in minutes. Five tops.”
I swallow and feel stupid suddenly. “It’s fine. I’m being…silly.”
“Faith, you’re not being silly.”
I take a deep breath. “Will you…will you stay on the phone with me?”
“Yes.”
I open the door as he tells me how his day has been. He’s distracting me. It isn’t working.
I turn the light on and lock the door behind me once I’m in his apartment. I feel relief.
“All okay?” he asks.
“Yes. I’m sorry for being so…I’m sorry.”
“You never have to be sorry with me. Now, get into bed and I’ll join you in no time.”