22. Wrinley
Wrinley
H oly fucking hell. My heart is beating like a bass drum against my chest, faster and faster while I sit on the curb and wait for Axel to take me to my dad.
Resting my forehead in my palms, I stare blankly at the concrete between my feet, counting all the tiny pieces of gravel dusting the weathered surface.
I can’t believe I called him.
What was I thinking?
I wasn’t thinking.
That’s the problem.
More importantly, why did he say he’d come get me?
I didn’t even ask him the question that was resting right on the tip of my tongue.
I didn’t have to.
He just… knew.
Like he always seems to .
Then he made a decision without even a second's worth of hesitation and I can’t deny the butterflies that swooped in my belly at the way he nearly growled that he was on his way.
That man is the single most confusing human being on the planet.
He hates me. I hate him. We hate each other.
That’s our thing. Our baseline. Except lately…
the lines have felt a little less clear.
Between him always showing up at the worst times, and me choking on his dick or allowing him to fuck my virginity away–to this.
My brain is confused.
When I hear the tell-tale sounds of tires screeching across the pavement, I check the time and look up to confirm it’s actually him. Jesus, did he break every single traffic law to get here?
Tires grind to a halt in front of me and when I finally look up, the passenger window is already open.
“Get in.” For a change, I don’t argue, instead standing to pull the door open and hopping into the cab.
“Buckle up.” As soon as I follow his order, the truck jerks into motion, jostling my entire body, causing my pulse to thump in my ears and my hand to instinctively reach for the oh shit handle to stabilize myself.
Within seconds, we settle into a smooth, comfortable speed.
I’m okay. Everything is okay.
“Thank you for doing this.” My voice comes out weak, small and pathetic. A pretty accurate representation of how I feel. “He’s all I have. I can’t lose him.”
My hand begins to instinctively rub the old scar on my leg as images flash in my mind of my mother, covered in blood and lying lifeless in my arms. The accident was almost ten years ago, but the images are all as clear in my head as they were when it happened.
The bright crimson staining her skin and clothes.
Her eyes open, staring at nothing.
Lifeless.
Soulless.
Empty.
Her neck and arms loose as I held her and prayed to anyone or anything that would listen to give her back to me.
A part of me died with her.
The part of me that couldn’t imagine living a life where she didn’t exist in it. Now there’s a mom shaped hole in my soul. After mom left us, I poured the rest of me into making sure dad was okay.
I close my eyes and let out a stuttered breath. I can’t lose him.
“What happened?” Axel asks, his voice softer than usual, pulling me from the brink of my panic. “Tell me.”
“He was fine. I, uh–” My mind is racing, in some fucked up attempt to figure out what I’m going to do with the information I haven’t yet received but I anticipate is coming. “I don’t know.”
Axel’s large hand covers mine, stopping me from effectively rubbing a hole through my pants.
“Take a breath.”
The three words are so simple. I’m so used to the fight that dictates every interaction we have, but right now, I don’t have the energy for it.
Not in this moment–in this space–with him.
So instead of listening to myself–for a change–I listen to him , and I let the air fill my lungs and I just…
breathe. In and out, deep and soothing, until I feel his hand squeeze mine so subtly, I almost miss it.
When I look up from my lap, he’s staring at me with those big caramel eyes of his and I realize we’ve stopped. How long have we been sitting here?
“Don’t worry. We just pulled in, but you clearly needed a second.” How the fuck does he always do that? Like he’s got an inside view of my thoughts. Let’s hope he doesn’t have access to all of them. I’d never be able to look at him again. “Looks like your pants were spared.”
“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”
A smirk tugs at his lips. “Let’s go.” He’s out of the truck quickly, rounding it to offer me a hand to help me to the ground. I pause in his grasp for the briefest of moments before pulling away and heading straight for the emergency room entrance.
“I’m here for David Jaymes,” I tell the receptionist, my words coming out hurried. “I’m his daughter. I got a call that he was brought here by ambulance. I just saw him earlier today at work. He was fine. I don’t know what happened. I need to know if he’s okay.”
“Slow down, Miss. Our systems are down right now, so I have no way of finding him, but as soon as we’re back up and running, I’ll let you know. Please have a seat in the waiting room.”
“Excuse me?” I squeak. “What do you mean, you don’t know where my father is? Send someone back there to find him.”
“I can’t do that. Please have a seat.”
My previously reduced blood pressure starts to rise again at her nonchalance. “No!” I push back, admittedly louder than I’d intended, and bend to lean over the counter to get my point across, even if I have to do it with my fist. “What if he–”
I’m interrupted by a thick, muscular arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me backward. If Axel thinks he can spare this bitch my wrath, he has another thing coming.
“Stop,” he orders, but this time, I don’t listen.
“Fuck you, Axel. Fuck all of you,” I shout just as my legs give out and the tears I’ve been fighting finally give way. He refuses to let go, so I flail my legs until my heel makes hard contact with his shin.
“Shit.” He falters just a little. Just enough for me to turn and try to punch him in the face. “Wrinley! Fucking stop.” Grabbing my wrists, just before I make contact, he pulls them behind my back, rendering me useless.
Always so fucking useless.
There’s nothing left for me to do but collapse on the floor at his feet, because just like I couldn’t help her, I can’t help him either.
I sit, hunched over, in the middle of the emergency room lobby, soaking the floor with my heavy tears, until I’m eventually lifted and all I feel is air around me.
He places me in the square, plastic, cushionless chair that sits on the almost white floor of the waiting room.
“Stay.” The command pokes at a part of my brain that constantly itches to argue with him.
To do the exact opposite of what he says.
But this one time, I take too long and he’s already returned with a bottle of water. “Drink this.”
I take the bottle, refusing to look up at him through, what I’m sure are bloodshot eyes. He lowers himself into the seat next to me and it does nothing to ease the shame spiraling through me that I allowed him to see the me that's… broken.
He doesn’t talk for what feels like an eternity.
He just sits there tapping away on his phone like I didn’t just have a complete meltdown in front of him. It’s the most fucked up combination of soothing and unnerving.
“What are you doing?” I finally ask, needing to fill the silence.
He doesn’t look up when he speaks. “Fixing the problem. Same as always.”
“What does that even mean?”
“I didn’t stutter. It means I’m fixing it.” He says it so plainly. So assuredly. But it’s clear his usual asshole personality traits are starting to seep back through.
My eyes sting and my cheeks burn hot as more tears threaten to break free.
“We had an argument today, at the office. I was so frustrated with him because I know he wants what he thinks is best for me, but working at an accounting firm is not what’s best. I wasn’t all that kind with my words. I just need him to know I love him.”
“What do you actually want to do, Wrinley? Besides math.”
I wish I knew. I thought I knew what I wanted once, but that was a long time ago and things are different now. “That’s the problem. I don’t know.”
“I always thought you’d end up dancing for a living, with how obsessed you were with it growing up.” My head turns slowly to look at him, but his fingers are still pounding away on his phone screen. I knew he knew I took dance classes, but it’s been so long. How does he even remember that?
“Maybe I wasn’t any good at it,” I say flatly, my eyes still boring into him. “Ever think of that?”
He lifts his gaze from his phone to meet mine and an unfamiliar sensation flutters through my belly. “Not really,” he mutters, both quietly and confidently.
“Miss Jaymes,” a woman in bright blue scrubs calls from across the room, breaking me from whatever trance he had me trapped in. I jump up to meet her halfway, my arms folded across my chest.
“My dad? Where is he? Can I see him?” The questions come out so fast, I don’t give her a chance to even answer.
“I’m sorry about earlier, Miss Jaymes–”
“Wrinley,” I correct her. “Please, just call me Wrinley.”
She nods. “Wrinley. Our systems just came back up. Your father is going to be fine.”
My hands fly to my mouth to cover the gasp of relief that floods my system at her words, followed by more tears. “So I can see him?”
“I’m sorry, but not yet. He had a very mild cardiac event, but he does need a stent put into one of the arteries surrounding his heart to help improve blood flow and hopefully make sure this doesn’t happen again.
” I don’t know this lady, but I’d kiss her right now if it wouldn’t get me arrested.
“He’s in great hands with our cardiac team.
They just took him to put the stent in. He’ll go to a recovery area after, where he’ll have to stay flat for a few hours and then you can take him home. ”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. If I were you, I would get something to eat and try to relax. He’s going to need someone with him for the next twenty-four hours after the procedure, so I would suggest making whatever arrangements you need to make for that as well.”
“I understand. I’ll stay with him.”
I watch her move back through the swinging doors that lead to the busy emergency room before I turn back around.
I regard Axel sitting there in his chair, slightly slouched with his legs wide–manspreading–and still engrossed in the small device glued to his hands.
“You did this.” It’s not accusatory and it’s also not a question.
“I knew you were good with computers, but I didn’t know you were capable of something like this. ”
“Sit,” he orders, and it’s not lost on me that he didn’t deny my epiphany. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
I take a long, deep breath and exhale every ounce of oxygen I have for a brief moment to try to reset my nervous system.
Then I lower into the chair next to him, my knee resting against his thigh and causing a bolt of electricity to run through me at the contact.
“Why don’t you tell me something I don’t know then? ”