Because they wanted to sing me a song.
By the time I get home, I make dinner and lock the doors and windows. I put on Tommy’s favorite show and lie on the couch. I plead with Tommy to stay inside if I fall asleep, which I plan to do.
I don’t know what I’ll do about Morgan.
Don’t think about her.
My phone. Need to check it...
The room darkens as sleep overcomes me.
Bang, bang, bang!
My eyes snap open. It’s daylight. Tommy’s passed out on the floor with snack wrappers all around him. I rub my eyes and stagger forward.
When I open the door, a tornado the size and shape of Morgan bursts into the house.
“So you do have a pulse,” she snaps and holds up the burner phone. “Was this a cruel joke? Buy me a phone, then ignore me.”
“Morgan,” I say.
She lowers her voice and hisses, “Sleep with me, then discard me. How dare you?” Her tone drops even more. “After I prayed the way I did?” She stamps her heel. “I bared my soul to you!”
“Morgan-”
“Okay! I knew you said you would probably discard me after. The more I think about it, that was a jerk thing to say! I am a good woman, Jack Killborne. I pray you find God just so you don’t throw away his next blessing.”
She turns away to make a dramatic exit.
I roll my eyes and snatch her wrist, pulling her close.
“No! Let me go! I trusted you!” she cries out, kicking and screaming.
I understand why she’s upset. I should’ve texted. I’d be pissed too. It’s just a rough way to wake up.
Regardless, I drag Morgan to the couch and hold her on my lap. I shove my phone in her hand.
“Turn it on,crazy.”
She side-eyes me, skeptical.
“For real?”
“Yes.”
As if I may steal it back, she holds it further from me and moves cautiously as she powers on the phone.
I hold her fingertip and draw the unlock pattern. “Go on. Go through it.”
Her eyes gradually light up as she realizes I mean it. It’s Christmas morning for her.
She doesn’t delay and goes straight for texts. Her messages are at the top, all unread.
“See? I didn’t have my phone yesterday. It’s a long story.”
I tap her thread. There are dozens of messages, each one increasingly upset.
“Damn Morgan,” I tease half-heartedly. “Must’ve liked my dick. Clingy much?”
