“Yes and no. I didn’t think she would ignore me if I really needed her.” Admitting that’s exactly what she is doing is hard.
“Is there anyone else you can call to see if she’s talking to them?”
Just when I think I have a grip on the horror show that is now my life, I realize how much worse it could really be. It never dawned on me that Livy might not be ignoring me intentionally. “Oh my god!” I scroll through my contacts for her boyfriend’s number. My instinct is to call, but when I notice the time, I know I’d have a better chance texting because Parker’s at work.
Thumbs hovering over the screen, I go blank. “What do I say? I don’t want to freak him out, but I need to know if she’s okay.”
“I would?—”
“I’ll just ask him.” I talk over him, too eager to wait for a more formulated response.
“That works,” Boone agrees.
Me: Liv won’t respond to me, and I need to make sure she’s okay. Did she stay with you last night?
“That’s good, right? Because this psycho can’t be in two places at once, right?” I hold the phone up for Boone to read after hitting send.
“Yeah, that’s good, and look, he’s already replying.”
I jerk the phone back so I can see the screen.
Parker: Yeah, she’s still pissed, but she’s coming around. Give her another day, and she will be bugging you to come home again.
I heart his message then send a quick response, expressing how important it is for him to keep her safe, then I plead with him to have her call me as soon as she can.
“He said he would talk to her after work and get her to call.” I sag against the seat, feeling exhausted, and I’ve only been up for a few hours.
“Let’s get something to eat,” Boon suggests, and my stomach doesn’t revolt at the thought. It’s kind of scary how fast I’m adjusting to all this crap.
Boone
The restaurant is like countless others I’ve visited in small town USA. The floors are a black and white checkerboard pattern, and the booths outnumber the tables. There’s a low bar lined with permanently rooted stools along one wall, making if feel like a 50’s diner.
Most of the seats are empty save a few, but that’s not surprising considering the time. I doubt brunch is that popular here, especially this time of year on a weekday. That won’t be the case for long, though, with summer quickly approaching.
The woman behind the bar calls out, “Have a seat wherever you’d like, and I’ll be along shortly,” barely looking in our direction. I usher Harlyn to the back of the room, near the restrooms and kitchen door. I don’t think we were followed here, but that doesn’t mean whoever’s been stalking her can’t find us. When she slides into the booth, I crowd in close, forcing her to scoot toward the wall to accommodate me sitting next to her. She makes a quiet shocked sound but doesn’t protest.
“I don’t want to be overheard,” I tell her, but that’s only one of the reasons my thigh is pressed up against hers.
She gave me a scare this morning, one I’m not eager to repeat, and while I have seven hundred things running through my mind, I’d be lying if I said figuring out how to keep her attached to my hip isn’t the first and most important.
“Do you have enough room?” She tries to squeeze closer to the wall, creating an extra inch or two, until her ass relaxes backon the bench. I lay my hand over her leg and notice when her breathing hitches.
“Unless you have a problem with me being this close, stop wiggling around.”
“I just don’t want you to hang off the edge.”
“I’m not, but even if I was, I could think of a million things more problematic, like that ketchup not being full or the crumb under my shoe.”
Harlyn picks up the nearly full ketchup bottle, tilting it left and right to show the fact that it’s only an inch or two from the top. “And I don’t even use it,” I add as the waitress who told us to pick a seat reaches across the table and grabs a couple laminated menus from behind the condiment station to give us. Her hand goes to her apron next. “Afternoon, I’m Barbara. Will anyone else be joining you?”
“No, just the two of us.”
“Alrighty, what can I get ya to drink?” Two sets of silverware wrapped in thin napkins land on the table next.
“Coffee, cream, and sugar please,” Harlyn replies.
“Same for me, and water.”
