Chapter Forty-Four
FORTY-FOUR
Shepherd stared at the darkened ceiling, his jaw tight, teeth grinding so loud he could almost block out the sound of Ginny crying.
He hated that she was crying. Hated that there was nothing he could do about it.
Hated, still, that he sort of hated her for getting him into this in the first place.
But there was nothing he could do to stop the feeling.
It was as ferocious as the rope burning his wrists, as pounding as the ache in his skull.
It was her scary mom, her terrifying family, her goddamn plan to trust the ex-mob boss in the first place.
A few hours ago, he would’ve comforted her. A few hours ago, he would’ve risked his life to get the tears to stop.
But now—now he had risked his life. Multiple times. And he was tied up in a chair in his kitchen as his sink dripped and the woman who had taken advantage of his stupid, pathetic crush was sniffling next to him.
And the worst part? It wasn’t even just a crush. He knew that as soon as he thought it. He loved her. He loved her, and look what happened. Tied up at gunpoint. God, at least Hayley had only destroyed him emotionally.
A small light came on across the room, on a counter near the pizza oven, throwing shadows over missed grease stains. The rectangle buzzed. Shepherd sat up, tried to look at it. His phone, he could tell. Who was calling at this hour? He had no idea.
He scooted his chair forward. Well, he tried, but trying to move a chair across a room while tied to that chair proved to be harder than one would think.
He made it a few inches before the call hung up.
Shepherd kept going. Maybe they’d call again.
Maybe he could answer with his nose. Maybe if he was close enough, he could get Siri to call 911 for him.
Halfway there now, scooting and hopping like a toddler with diaper rash.
The phone lit up. Shepherd grinned. Rescue was in reach.
Just a few more feet, and whoever was calling him would hear his cries for help and save him, get him out of this godforsaken restaurant and mess and feelings.
So many freaking feelings. He never wanted to have another one again.
A chair leg caught on the tile grout. Shepherd felt the wobble but couldn’t stop to correct. The buzzing would stop, the call would go to voicemail, he’d miss his chance and—
The chair fell sideways. Shepherd landed hard, his cheek smacking against cold tile with no way to brace himself. The impact jarred his teeth and sent a hot ache though his chin.
The buzzing stopped. Ginny’s crying continued. He hated the noise of it, the sound of it, the fact that he couldn’t do anything to stop it. How it only seemed to magnify the steady plink plink plink of the leaking faucet. He hated her. Or maybe he just hated himself for letting her matter so much.
And because this wasn’t the first time.
He would’ve done anything for Hayley, once upon a time, too.
Would’ve co-signed a lease for Oscar, if asked.
His best friend who would go on to betray him with the mother of his child.
Would’ve paid any price to keep his dad from walking out on them, to keep his mom happy.
But she was never happy, no matter what he did.
And his dad never came back, no matter how much he begged.
And Oscar and Hayley still went behind his stupid, trusting back.
And Ginny—beautiful, wonderful Ginny—had ruined what little life he’d been able to scrape together one plan at a time.
Shepherd prayed for death. Or, at the very least, sunrise. Whichever would come first.