“You’re more Claw’s type,” I say and patiently wait until it dawns on him.
Dylan was never good at noticing things that didn't affect him directly.
He widens his eyes, and I nod. “Yep. I covered for him; he covered for me. Besides, I made it well worth his while.”
“With my money, I assume?”
I look away.
“Fucking hell!” He yells as he kicks a waste basket or something.
What if Marissa was right? What if I have to detox in jail?
A familiar panic grips my airways. Shit. I squirm restlessly, trying to banish the thought from my mind.
I’ve just gotten back to a reliable, steady supply now that Claw’s out on bail.
I need to figure things out, get my hands on a phone, or get out of here.
“Is there a cop outside the door?” I ask, but it makes my husband even more furious for some reason.
“How much, Rebel?”
I shrug uncertainly. I really don’t know.
“You fucking bitch,” he spits, and I glare at him.
How dare he? Wasn’t he the one who wanted us to be partners in life and business, the one who made me feel like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him, like I was perfect?
One mistake and he changes his mind?
“Dylan, we can always make more money,” I try telling him, but he scoffs.
“I’m fucking ruined, Bell. The lawyer just called. Settling the lawsuit is gonna bankrupt me, even if you already haven’t. You don’t seem to understand what you’ve done. And you haven’t even asked about my son. You could have killed him!”
I do feel a little guilty about the kid. “Is Junior okay?”
Dylan huffs a disdainful little laugh and shakes his head. “You can’t even act as if you care.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I never pretended I was into the whole step-mother thing. I don’t understand why he’s acting like this is some big surprise and looking at me like I’m mud under his shoe.
His conviction that I will eventually develop maternal feelings is frankly insulting.
“I can’t believe I ruined my whole life because of you,” he says after a few minutes of silence.
“Blame me if it makes you feel better,” I tell him triumphantly, “but I think we both know the responsibility for that is all yours. You cheated on your ol’ lady, you gave the guy the tattoo and the infection, and you failed to properly take care of your kid. But sure, blame the evil witch Rebel instead of looking in the damn mirror.”
Lashing out like this feels good. I want to hurt him even more, but he strikes first.
“Don’t bother coming home if you make bail,” he grits out. “We’re done.”
I don’t bother opening my eyes to see him one last time. I don’t want a visual of this moment. I just want to get high and forget it. All of it.
*
Somewhere in the Arizona desert…
I wake up pretty disoriented. When I start stretching my upper body, a sudden sharp pain brings everything that happened back to me, all at once.
