27. Fuck Off to California
Fuck Off to California
LILLIAN
Matt wakes me in the morning with a line of kisses in my hair until his mouth brushes my ear. “I have to go work on the boat.”
“No,” I whimper, grabbing him and throwing my leg over his hip.
He laughs and humors me for a bit longer, holding me like a koala and indulging me with sweet kisses. “You can stay here as long as you want, but the sooner I get this done, the better.”
“Fine,” I groan and flop into the bed facedown. “I have to do work anyway.” I’ve been slacking. I need to update Dr. Harrison on my findings and start doing some write-ups on my first round of data.
I’m buzzing with excitement. But I’ll try to sleep a bit more first.
Matt is quiet as he gets ready. I like his little sounds. His footfalls on the floor, the grunts he makes when he bends over, soft scratching of nails on skin, a ruffle of hair.
More reasons to adore him.
When he’s ready, he comes over to the bed and kisses my temple. I wrap him in a goodbye hug, like we’ve done this a million times—him heading out early and giving me a kiss goodbye.
No one told me Naknek would make me turn to mush.
“I’ll see you later,” he says.
“Sooner rather than.”
Matt chuckles. “I’ll do what I can.”
We hold each other for a while longer. I play with the button on the pocket of his denim jacket.
“You should stop by Half-Hitch and say hi to Gwen. She’d get a kick out of that.”
I lift my weary eyes to his. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, she’s a fan,” Matt says, before kissing me hard as he grabs my ass.
I squeal with laughter and accept a dozen more kisses before he acts like the adult and says goodbye.
“Well, that’s a surprise,” I say, putting my hands on my hips as I stare up at the “Buy Your Friend a Coffee” board. My name is up there. A free coffee on behalf of Matt. Have I really not told him I prefer tea yet? I guess we still have a lot to learn about each other.
“There you are!” Gwen cries out with a large grin. “Matt said you’d be stopping in.”
I laugh. “Did he now?”
She glances up at the board with a cheeky smile. “You know, this isn’t like him at all.”
“To buy someone a coffee?” I say.
Gwen’s face falls. “Oh, god. I should have told him you prefer tea.”
At least one of the Bentons remembers. “No harm, no foul. I can take a coffee now and then.”
“Don’t be silly. Tea for Lillian, on Matt,” Gwen says, grabbing a cup and turning around to get some hot water.
I glance up at our names again. “You were saying this isn’t like him?”
“Oh! Yes, sorry. My mind is always in fifteen different places,” she says, glancing at Winnie quietly assembling a scene of dinosaurs on a nearby table.
“What I mean is—” Gwen rips a tea bag open and pops it into the cup. “He just doesn’t get a chance to be . . .” She turns back to face me, her lips turned upward as if she’s eaten something entirely too sweet. “Romantic.”
I’m totally blushing.
She slides the cup across the counter to me. “So, I shouldn’t say it’s not like him. He just hasn’t had an opportunity to exercise that muscle in a long time.”
“Well, he’s doing a nice job so far,” I say, taking the hot cup of tea carefully from the counter.
“That makes me happier than you know,” Gwen says. “Seriously. I can’t think of anyone more deserving of, well, whatever you two are doing.”
I try not to wince.
Whatever we’re doing is a hell of a lot deeper than either of us are ready to admit.
“Well, thanks for the tea.”
“You want to sit for a bit?” Gwen asks, gesturing toward an empty table. “It’s slow today.”
No wonder Matt told me to come visit. Not only did he want to start my day with a romantic flourish, but Gwen needs some company. I hate saying no to her. “I’ve got some work to do today, but I can try to come back later?”
After saying our goodbyes, I head out the door and walk to the truck. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a dark figure. I jump with a gasp, turning to find Matt’s dad standing right next to the truck.
“Mr. Benton!”
Is he drunk? It’s not even noon. My mind races, trying to think of something to say.
Wayne approaches me. He’s in need of a shave, and from the smell of it, a shower, too.
“I told you to stay away from him,” he says.
I swallow.
“You deaf?” Wayne growls.
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I answer honestly.
Wayne leans in toward me again. “You think you can whore yourself out to my fucking son and?—”
“I’m sorry?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing.
“Use him to get your way?—”
“I’m not using him,” I say in defense. I’m cornered against the truck, afraid of him grabbing me and throwing me down.
“Like hell you aren’t!”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say.
Wayne leans further in, lifting his chin to intimidate me. He grits out, “I know your kind! And my son is much better than the likes of you.”
I want to run, but I’m trapped. The only option is to fight. I drop the cup of tea as he comes in closer, fearing I might have to push him away. I can smell his breath as he snarls, “Go back to where you came from.”
With my heart racing, I shut my eyes and thrust my knee into his groin as hard as I can. I wince, expecting him to come at me, but he stumbles back, crying out in pain.
With that small berth, I scramble into the cab and drive away as fast as I can, tires squealing across the asphalt.
My knuckles whiten as I grip the wheel, my heart threatening to punch out of my chest. What would he have done with another moment? Would he have hurt me?
And how am I going to tell Matt what happened?
I drive until I don’t recognize the scenery. My head is reeling, and my stomach is in knots as I pull off to the side of the road. I feel like I’m going to throw up, like I’m out to sea, being tempest-tossed.
I slide over and open the door on the passenger side. I get out of the cab, shaking on the side of the road, bracing my hands on my knees. The fresh air steadies my stomach, thank god. But I remain bent over, catching my breath.
That was . . . insane.
With a sharp inhale, I look up at the sky. “What the fuck!” I scream at the mountains, almost laughing at how ridiculous this all is.
As if it could get worse, when I turn around, I realize there’s something wrong with my truck. White spray paint spans the length of the truck to the back of the bed.
FUCK OFF TO CALIFORNIA
The words are too steady for Wayne to have painted, especially in the time between me entering the Half-Hitch and him following.
I blink, twin tears sliding down my face.
I can’t handle this alone. I just can’t. My hands tremble as I grab my phone, sealing myself back in the truck and locking the doors. It’s a long shot that I have service, and a longer shot that Matt does too. But I need him.
The call goes through, but he doesn’t pick up. I keep calling until he does.
“What’s going on?” he answers, breathless.
“I—they—someone—” I pant through sobs.
“Woah, woah, woah. Lillian, what’s going on?”
It takes a minute to get control of my tears before I’m able to come out with it. “Someone spray painted my truck while I was in the Half-Hitch, and—” I don’t tell him about his dad. I can’t do that to him right now. “They told me to fuck off.”
“They spray painted that on your truck?”
“Yes, I- I?—”
“Where are you right now?”
I look up, but the world is bleary. “I don’t know. I just kept driving down the main road, and I pulled over, and?—”
“Stay where you are. I’m coming to get you.”
“Don’t hang up. Please don’t hang up. I can’t be alone. I can’t.”
“I won’t. I’m right here.”
By some miracle, the call doesn’t drop, not even once. And he drives like the wind until he finds me.
With trembling hands, I unlock my door for Matt. And when he opens it, he pulls me to his chest and squeezes tight.
“It’s okay. It’s gonna be okay.”
I grab onto his jacket and weep into the collar of his shirt. And even though deep down I know it’s not going to be okay, I try to focus on this moment in Matt’s arms.