22. Let Him Come
LET HIM COME
A spen
The rest of the workday went by smoothly.
My tables all tipped well, and by eleven, the only people left in the restaurant were Rowan and Theo.
I was behind the bar helping Lucas clean up the glasses since I’d already cashed out all my tables and tips for the evening when I looked across the bar at them.
“Okay, boys, anything else for the night? We’re closing up soon,” I said very matter-of-factly.
Despite the mind-blowing sex and internal revelation earlier, I was still mad at him for trying to underhandedly deceive me.
“Well, that seems like my cue to head on out. Good luck, bro,” Theo muttered and clapped Rowan on the back in that very bro type of way.
“I don’t need luck, Theo, but thanks anyway,” he replied.
I let out a disbelieving laugh. “You’re going to need more than luck.”
Theo’s eyes widened for a split second before he chuckled. “Yeah, good luck. See you…well, maybe never? I’m betting all my money on her. She’s fiery,” Theo said.
Rowan just smiled at me, and I rolled my eyes. He was going to need way more than luck if we were being honest with each other.
Once Theo left, Lucas casually excused himself, claiming he had to take the trash out, and Ivy was nowhere to be found. Which left the two of us alone, staring at each other across the shiny, polished wooden bar top.
“You’re angry still,” he said, finally breaking the silence.
I just stared at him, arms crossed over my chest, saying nothing.
I didn’t feel as if I needed to. Obviously, I was angry.
Great sex didn’t change that. Great sex wasn’t an apology.
He stood from his chair and slowly walked behind the bar, only stopping once he was in front of me.
His hands came up, cupping my jaw and lifting my chin to look him in the eyes.
I had to force away the memory of him spitting into my mouth earlier.
“Tell me what I can do to fix it,” he said quietly.
“An apology for trying to force me into something I’m not sure I want to do would be a solid start, Rowan,” I stated plainly.
He nodded his head slowly. “I am sorry for trying to deceive you, but I’m not sorry for trying to force your hand. I want you with me where I know you’re safe—I won’t apologize for that, little angel.”
I had to hold in the eye roll. “I’m fine, Rowan. I can take care of myself just fine.”
His eyebrows pinched together. “While I know you’re a strong, capable woman, Aspen, the photos say otherwise—” he cut himself off, and I stood there, mouth agape, frozen.
“What—”
“No, just listen before you freak out, okay?”
I pushed him away and started walking away, determined to get the fuck away from this man.
The photos say… what fucking photos? That’s when it clicked in my head.
Wyatt was all into computers and found out that Sam was the one calling me.
He’d seen…I felt like I was going to vomit, but instead, I just stopped, slowly turning around to face him again.
“You saw all of it, didn’t you?” I asked, my voice a hoarse whisper. “Before I ever even told you?”
He ran his hand over his face a few times but didn’t answer.
“What is this to you, Rowan? Some sort of charity case? A way to feel like a better man? An experiment to see if you can commit to a woman? What did you do? Try to find the most broken one you could to trial run?” I quickly wiped my cheeks, erasing the tears streaming down my face.
He didn’t deserve them. Rowan took a step toward me, and I backed up another step.
“No. Absolutely not. That had nothing to do with you, Rowan. You had no right to dig around into my past the way you did. Go fuck yourself,” I muttered, before I turned and ran out of the bar.
I was halfway home when Ivy caught up with me. Her small green Volkswagen Beetle pulled up next to the curb.
“Get in, Aspen. Please.”
I shook my head and kept walking. I had nothing to say to anyone right now.
I heard her let out a small groan. The lack of noise from her car didn’t surprise me, nor did the slam of her car door.
A few moments later, she was walking next to me.
She didn’t speak; she just walked next to me until we got back to my apartment.
Once inside, a slow trek up the stairs, and one unlocked the door later, we walked into my apartment. But what I found wasn’t my apartment at all. At least not the way I’d left it. It was…destroyed.
Water was running in the bathtub and sink, flooding the bathroom floor. My clothes were cut up and all over the floor. The mattress was covered in paint and looked like someone had dragged a knife through it for good measure. My canvases were slashed. The couch was also covered in water and paint.
I looked around, truly at a loss for words.
It felt as if I couldn’t even fully comprehend what I was seeing.
Ivy quickly ran into the bathroom, turned off the water, and pulled the drains so they’d stop splashing onto the now-soaked floor.
She came back in and just wrapped her arms around me, not speaking.
I didn’t even hug her back. I was numb—I hadn’t felt this bad since I’d gotten in the car and run from Sam seven months ago.
“It was him, wasn’t it?” she whispered, her face buried in my hair.
I knew what him she was talking about, and it wasn’t Rowan. Rowan was obviously a lot of things, but he’d never do anything like this. Even if I knew he couldn’t have because he’d been sitting at the bar all evening long, driving me crazy. No, this had my ex written all over it.
The destroyed clothes and my art supplies being wasted all over the floor just sent me back in time to the tumultuous ending of our relationship.
My feet were dragging, and I couldn’t wait to plop down on the couch and just lounge.
I walked up the stairs of our fifth-floor apartment, apparently the elevator was still broken.
I shouldn’t be shocked when our landlord was the definition of a money-hungry pig, but I somehow still was just that—shocked.
I reached our floor, and the smell of pot hit me before anything else did.
I let out a long sigh. This was the reason we’d gotten kicked out of our last place.
Not that I wasn’t paying the rent on time, but because the neighbors kept threatening to call the cops if Sam didn’t stop smoking in the apartment.
That landlord told me that it was bad for his ”extra side business” to have the police snooping around for a little bit of pot.
Rolling my eyes—how the fuck was this my life?
I didn’t bother trying to unlock the door that I knew wouldn’t be locked. Sam had a bad habit of smoking too much and forgetting that we didn’t live in the best spot in town.
I opened the door and walked in, trying not to gag over the array of smells that hit me.
“Sam?” I yelled through the apartment.
Noises from the bedroom drew my attention, and I swallowed thickly. Standing in the middle of the living room, I stared at the door in front of me. The door that went to our shared bedroom. I couldn’t breathe past the sense of doom filling my chest right now.
Doom for my relationship.
Doom for the life I was trying to build for myself.
Because I’d walked in on those sounds plenty of times with him before over the years we’d spent together. So, I just didn’t—I didn’t walk in. I stood there and waited like the dumb bitch he always called me.
Maybe I was a dumb bitch after all, because when they finally stopped making noises and the leggy blonde walked out of the bedroom, I didn’t say a word.
When Sam walked out and smiled a few minutes later, I still didn’t say a word.
I walked into the bedroom and stared at the messed-up sheets, the smell of sex and pot still heavy in the air.
The sense of betrayal I should feel over this situation, gone, replaced instead by a sense of…
numbness. I should care, right? I should be crying or angry or throwing things like Sam did when I said something I shouldn’t, or had a tone, or was too tired to have sex with him.
That was more than likely why the leggy blonde was even here, because I’d been so goddamn tired lately. Too tired to even notice how I made my boyfriend of five years miserable.
I turned and walked out of the room, staring at Sam.
He was sitting on the couch, and I hadn’t even noticed until now that the leggy blonde was still here.
Sitting on the couch that I paid for, in the apartment that I paid for, using the electricity that I paid for, next to the man who didn’t pay for any of those things.
“Sam, I’m done,” I said, my voice stronger than I anticipated it being, given the current situation.
He looked up from his phone, the blonde next to him looked between us, eyes wide.
“Are you two together? I thought you said she was your roommate. What the fuck, Sam!” She jumped up off my couch, grabbed what I would assume were the rest of her clothes and cell phone before leaving—the front door slammed behind her.
Sam’s face went from somewhat shocked to rage-filled in a matter of moments. “You stupid bitch! Why do you always have to make shit about you?” I went from thinking about how I was going to get my things packed and my name off the lease, to seeing stars.
I would forever be this man’s punching bag if I didn’t find a way to leave, and as I lay there on the dirty apartment floor, I thought about which highway direction I’d take to get the fuck out of this shitty city.
Ivy pulling away from the embrace she had me stuck in brought me back to the present.
“Come on, we need to call the police and then you can stay at my place while we get this shit straightened out,” she said, wiping the tears from her face. I just nodded in response as she pulled out her phone, dialing the sheriff's office.
The next hour and a half was spent answering questions.Who do you think did this? Why would he do that? When was the last time you heard from him? What brought this on? Are you seeing anyone new? Why would he come out of the blue after almost eight months?
All things I’d answered before—different sheriff's office, different officer, same questions, same responses.
I had pushed all my anxiety and feelings of dread deep down into a box and shoved the box under the bed of my subconscious. I was numb again and just gliding through the motions. Nothing mattered right now.
Let him come. Maybe he’ll finally finish the job this time.
I shook my head, trying to bring my mind away from those thoughts as Ivy drove us back to her place. I briefly heard her on the phone with Todd, telling him that no, they couldn’t hang out tonight. That she had other pressing matters.
That was me— pressing matters . Something that pulled her away from her boyfriend. Something to inconvenience him and drive an unnecessary wedge between them.
“Ivy, don’t worry about it. Don’t cancel your plans,” I said quietly.
“Aspen, you can’t stay at your place. It’s a crime scene, and it isn’t safe. You’re coming back with me,” she said, holding the still-active phone toward her shoulder.
I shook my head, deciding on a plan while I spoke. I knew I couldn’t go to her house. I couldn’t put her in that situation, not if this was how Sam was acting.
“Don’t. Just drop me off at Rowan’s,” I said calmly—detached.
She stared at me for a moment; uncertainty clear on her face. “Are you sure? I thought you two had gotten into a fi?—”
“Nope, everything is fine. Drive me over there, please. Keep your plans with Todd. It’s all good.” I looked down at my phone, sending him a quick text while Ivy told Todd she’d see him in a little bit.
Me: Are you home?
Rowan: Yeah, little angel. What’s up?
I didn’t respond, and another one came through after a few minutes.
Rowan: Is everything okay?
I still didn’t respond. There was no point. This was a last-ditch effort and a result of my having nowhere else to go. I wasn’t staying with him because it’s where I wanted to be.
That was at least what I’d keep repeating to myself as I held onto my anger and ignored everything else running through my head about the shit show I called my life.