Chapter 44
chapter
forty-four
SHAY
The weekend passed without word from Calder. When I woke up Monday, I felt it in my bones. My limbs were heavier, weighed down by sandbags. A flare-up was coming.
There was a knock on my doorframe, and I glanced up, finding Lithie leaning against the jamb.
“Are you okay?” Before I could answer, she asked, “Is it because we interrogated you? Were we too rough?”
I shook my head. “No. No, I’m fine.”
I wasn’t fine, but I didn’t know if it was because of my body or the boy.
This isn’t casual to me, Shay. It never was.
Was that a…breakup?
It had to be a breakup, right? But then why would he say that?
“I’m texting Olly,” she said, pulling out her phone. “You’re not going to work.”
I sat up. “I’m fine.”
Her gaze remained glued to her phone. “It’s done. They’ll let Jenna know you’re taking the day off.”
I spun around, kicking my legs off the side of the bed. “I’m going—”
“For a sick person, you never take sick days,” she said. “You hold yourself to an impossibly high standard, Shay. No one, not even ‘healthy’”—she raised her fingers in air quotes—“people have such a high standard.”
I gripped the edge of the mattress, pausing at the pleading tone in her voice.
“Just take the day off,” she pressed. “Please.”
“Fine,” I said. “But only because I have nothing pressing to do.”
She raised her hand in surrender, and I settled back into bed.
“Text me if you need anything,” she said.
“Aren’t you going to the prison?”
She arched a brow. “And? Text me.”
After pinkie promising to message Lithie if I needed something—even if it was just a glass of water—she left.
I lay in bed, watching the shadows change on my ceiling from morning to afternoon. And in bed, with no distractions, all I could think about was Calder. He hadn’t messaged me or reached out.
This was exactly what I was trying to avoid. Why this was supposed to be casual.
“Fuck.” I spun to my stomach and groaned into my pillow.
At least there was nothing I needed to do at work—
The Astro.
It was due tonight.
I rolled over in bed, checking the time on the clock. Ten p.m. I had two hours before the deadline.
You deserve to dream just as much as the next person. Maybe more.
“Fuck this.” I sat up, ignoring the way my bones creaked, and got dressed. On my way out, I quickly downed some caffeine that I would pay triple for later, and drove to work.
Everyone had already left for the day. The building was quiet, the air soft, static. A low hum buzzed, from maybe the heater.
And I worked.
I ignored the pain in my limbs.
I ignored the fatigue in my eyeballs.
I locked in, focused, and then—
“Done.”
A long exhale left my lungs. Holy shit. I did it. I blinked at the black text on the screen: Submission Received. I printed a copy to place with Jenna, heading out of my office and to hers.
As I placed the papers on her desk, a sticky melancholy clung to my happiness—how much had I given up because I didn’t want to let go? My thoughts drifted back to Calder—
Clang.
A metallic clatter echoed from what sounded like my office. Followed by another, and another—like someone was yanking at my desk.
It was eleven forty-five. No one should be here.
A shot of cortisol lit up my spine. I was suddenly alert. Aware. And noticing the closest weapon. I grabbed a heavy paperweight replica of the Milky Way and tiptoed down the hall. My phone was in my office, so I couldn’t call the police. I couldn’t get to the elevator and stairs without passing by.
I gripped the weight harder as I reached the door. I would sprint past, to the stairs, and—
“Graham?” I froze, unable to compute what I was seeing: my ex-fiancé trying to get into my desk.
At my voice, Graham spun around. In all the years I’d known him, he was always so put together. He never left the house without freshly washed hair, cologne, and an ironed shirt.
Now he was…fucked up.
Dark circles hollowing his eyes. Greasy hair. Wrinkled clothes.
“Let me into your computer.” His words shook with manic vibration.
“What? Why?”
“Just fucking do it.” Graham took a step to me and I took one back. “I did everything for you. All I want is this one goddamn thing.”
Graham used to say that a lot to me. How he did everything. He did the laundry. He did the dishes. All because I was sick and broken.
And I believed him.
But…
“No, you didn’t,” I said. “You didn’t do anything for me.”
We lived together for a year after we got engaged, and he didn’t do the dishes or the laundry once. There was a reason he would yell about the laundry not being done when I was sick…because he wasn’t fucking doing it.
“Are you breaking into my office?” I asked. It didn’t make sense. There was no reason for Graham to break into my office. There was nothing for him here. But this was the second time I’d seen him here after hours.
His laugh was high pitched and wrong. Unstable. “You’re crazy like your fucking sister. Your dad left you, and you all turned fucking batshit. Why would I break into your office?”
I swallowed.
Adrenaline made my veins buzz and vibrate. Graham used to be my compass. But I was realizing that that compass never pointed true. I just believed him because it was easier than believing myself.
“You broke in,” I said, forcing myself to stand up straighter. “What reason do you have to be in my office at near midnight?”
“Get me into your fucking computer!” he screamed, his voice disappearing in contempt, giving way to a bone-rattling raspiness. I felt the spit. His face grew scarlet.
He raised his hand, and I took another step back, but not in time. He slapped me with such force I felt both fire and ice radiate through my flesh.
The ring he always wore left a cut. Copper filled my mouth. I stared at the floor, and I did something insane.
I laughed.
Maybe it was the adrenaline, but it felt more like relief.
I knew this version of Graham existed. Someone who screamed at me and called me worthless couldn’t be a good person. But he was so composed around everyone, and he never so much as raised his voice. Everyone loved him.
And he never hit me.
Graham stepped forward, tightening his grip on my shirt.
“If you don’t get me into your goddamn computer—”
You get the best of both worlds.
Hannah Montana blared into the room as a custodian entered. He froze in the doorway, eyes darting between us.
Chill out, take it slow—
Graham shoved me off, pushing past the man with such force he almost fell into his trash.