16. June #2
I do my best to put everything away with where I think it goes, and wipe off the counter, leaving no trace that I was ever there. I scurry across the silent space, and up the stairs to more familiar territory. I go into my makeshift bedroom and pull my phone off the nightstand.
There are a few missed notifications. One from Cora. One from Magnus. The rest is from social media. I swipe those away and click on the photo of Magnus.
Magnus: Miss you already xo
Me: You’ve been gone like ten minutes.
Dots immediately appear.
Magnus: More like thirty, princess!
I glance at the time, noting that he’s probably correct.
I made no effort of rushing when I was downstairs.
I should be out looking for another job right now, or perhaps not taking time off from the one I do have.
I have a shift tonight at the bar, though, so maybe the guilt of the free morning will dissipate once I’m back to work.
I hold the phone to my chest, my legs guiding me out of my room and down the hall.
I press my hand against his door, and the thing creaks open.
The scent of Magnus floats out and greets me, inviting me to come inside his space.
I comply, the familiarity of that night we spent together coming back to me.
I run my fingers across his sheets, recalling the way they felt against my skin.
I find myself climbing in and basking in the continued comfort Magnus provides, even in his absence.
Resting my head on his pillow, I breathe him in, closing my eyes and relaxing into the bed that doesn’t belong to me.
None of this does. This room, this house, the men that live in it.
This life, lavish and dangerous. None of it is mine.
And the clock continues to count down, reminding me that it won’t last forever.
But what’s the harm in savoring it while it does?
Don’t I deserve that much? I’ve been through hell and back, numerous times, shouldn’t I allow myself the decadence of pretending that for once, everything might turn out okay?
I pull his blanket up to my neck, settling into the soft, yet firm and inviting mattress.
I can’t control everything, nor can I choose the outcome of the future. But right now, I choose to enjoy this momentary peace life is offering me. I have a feeling it will be gone before I know it.
Sleep welcomes me almost immediately, which isn’t at all surprising given how deprived of it I’ve been. If I thought my slumber on that park bench was nice, it’s nothing compared to high thread count sheets and black-out curtains.
At some point, warm arms wrap around me and a head nuzzles in behind mine.
Lips kiss the back of my head and our legs intertwine.
I doze again, pulling Magnus’s hand up to rest along my chest. I shouldn’t allow any of this, I should climb out of his bed, go into mine, and stop permitting these feelings to continue to build…
but how do I resist something that is so damn good?
My phone vibrates against the bed, waking me up from my slumber. I pry Magnus off me and reach for the glowing thing. I squint, recognizing Jack’s number on the screen. I press the green button and hold the device to my ear.
“Hello.” My voice cracks.
Magnus grumbles something and stretches his tattooed arm out toward me.
“June, hey. Are you sleeping? It’s like seven o’clock.”
I sit up and rub my eyes. “I was taking a nap.” Is that a crime? “What’s up? Is something wrong?”
Muffling comes through the line. “Put that over there,” Jack tells someone else. “No, June. I hate to do this, but I double booked the shifts tonight, so I don’t need you to come in.”
“Wait, what?” I slide out from under Magnus’s arm and hop off the bed. “Who’s working instead?”
So help me God if he says Jane.
He hesitates for a second. “Jane is.”
“She’s been there like three weeks?”
“I know.” Jack sighs. “I called her first to cancel on her, but she mentioned quitting and well…I’m sorry, June.”
“And what if I quit? Didn’t you consider that?”
He covers the receiver again. “No, on the other side.”
Magnus rolls over on his back, dragging his forearm over his eyes. What a beautiful sight.
Jack speaks up. “Yeah, I did, but I know you won’t. You don’t really have another choice.” He pauses. “I’ve got to go. I still have you down for tomorrow night. I’ll see you then.” He hangs up, not caring if there is anything else I have to say.
Don’t have another choice. His words cut through me.
How dare he think I’m stuck working at his shitty bar.
But he’s not wrong. He’s aware I’m broke as fuck and desperate for every extra hour he throws my way.
It would be foolish of me to quit, especially when I’m already down a gig.
Working at Bram’s has been a saving grace, but it won’t compensate for the lost wages at two jobs.
He has me cornered between a rock and a hard place and he’s using that to his advantage.
And here I am, playing fucking house with three dangerous men.
Magnus pats the spot next to him, where I was only moments prior. “Come back to bed.”
My head throbs with the mixture of my newest problem and the sleep my body isn’t quite used to. “Do you have a medicine cabinet around here?”
He sits up, running his hand to get his messy hair off his brow. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Just a headache.” I glance at his bathroom. “I can get it if you tell me where it is.”
“I’ve got you, princess.” He reaches into the nightstand and pulls out a bottle, popping the top and dropping two pills onto the palm of his hand. Magnus slides off the bed and brings with him the glass of water that was sitting on a coaster, dripping with condensation. “Here.”
I take the little white things and down them without the liquid.
A habit I formed when I did my best not to leave my room once I was already inside, at my old apartment.
The less I had to interact with my roommates, the better.
I recall all the shit I left behind. Clothing, books, school supplies.
Nothing of real value, but everything left that I owned.
It’s pathetic that I have next to nothing to show for the years I’ve been on this planet.
Even the one thing I do have, my body, is in shit condition.
Bumps and bruises still healing from the asshole who kidnapped and tortured me.
They’ll heal, that’s for sure, but will I?
Shouldn’t I be more concerned or traumatized by what happened?
Is there something wrong with me because I’ve managed to shove it into a folder in my mind and not be bothered by it since?
Instead of terror or fear, I mostly feel angry, like I want to get revenge on who did this.
But mainly, I’m focused on how the hell I’m going to afford this thing called life.
I had this morning off, not by choice, and my evening shift was taken from me.
I have the money Magnus and Coen gave me, and the little bit I had been saving, but it isn’t much.
And each workable hour that passes, I start to panic at how I’m going to figure this all out.
“Penny for your thoughts?” Magnus asks me.
I let out a chuckle, considering I’m desperate enough to take him up on that offer. “You wouldn’t get it.” Because how could he?
He’s surrounded by anything and everything he could desire.
He doesn’t want, not for material things.
None of these guys do. They’ve worked hard for what they have, despite it being less than kosher, and money is the last of their concerns.
They’re at war to claim a lucrative throne, and I’m wondering where my next meal will come from.
“Try me.” Magnus tucks a strand of my jet-black hair behind my ear.
There’s a kindness in his expression, like maybe he would understand.
But I’m not willing to open up that part of me to him.
Not if I stand any chance of ever walking away.
The more I give, the harder it will be when things have run their course.
For him, for me. It’s a reality I don’t want to face, but one I’m aware will happen with or without my consent.
A knock sounds on the door. “Maggie.”
“Come in,” Magnus calls out.
The handle turns and Coen pokes his head around, his face tensing when his sights land on me. “Dinner is ready.” He flits his gaze to Magnus. “She shouldn’t be in here.”
“You guys seriously need to work on the whole talking about me like I can’t hear you thing.” I cross my arms and walk away from Magnus, bumping into Coen when I exit the room and head toward mine.
“Are you coming?” Coen says to me.
I don’t bother turning around. “I’ll be down in a minute; I need to freshen up.” AKA change my tampon since I accidentally napped for five billion hours. I don’t add that part, not because I’m modest, but because I’d rather Coen think that me and Magnus potentially just messed around.
When I finish in the restroom, I sit on the edge of my bed, wondering what the fuck I’m doing with my life. I drag my fingers along my scalp, raking my hair out of my face, and let out a sigh. I pull my phone out of my pocket, clicking on the text that Cora had sent me earlier.
Cora: Which night are we going out this week?
Our ritualistic hang out that both of us look forward to more than we probably should. A perfect depiction of how much we dislike our lives outside of each other.
I graze my brow with my fingers, and trail it down to the cut on my lip. They’re healing, but they’re still fresher than I’d hope they would be prior to seeing Cora. I don’t want her to worry any more than she already does.
Me: How about Saturday?
I push it out and hope that between now and then, the marks will fade and won’t be quite as noticeable.
Cora: Works for me, boo boo. Text me if anything changes.
Me: Will do. You okay?
Cora: Yep, swamped with assignments. You?
Me: Yeah, I’m good.
She heart reacts to my response, our conversation fizzling out with the few exchanged messages.