Page 79 of You Saw the Best In Me

“He’s been arrested?” I stutter, unable to form a complete thought.

“Yes, ma’am. I have details from the officers who brought him in. Would you like me to go over them with you?” the detective asks, and my heart rate intensifies.

“That’s fine, yes,” I take a deep breath and prepare for what’s to come.

I listen as the cop informs me of how he was arrested, what was in his possession, and the next steps I need to take.

The details keep getting worse, and my entire body is shaking. I thank the officer and hang up, immediately scrolling until I tap on Maverick’s name.

The only person who can calm me down is on the other end of this call, and once I talk to him, I’ll feel a million times better.

I walk back into the salon after we hang up, completely numb and functioning on auto-pilot.

The girls all stare, waiting for an explanation, but I sit in my chair and stare at myself in the mirror.

The person looking back at me is a wreck; tear stains streak down my cheeks, my blonde-silver hair is messy and stuck to the sweat that beads on my forehead, and my eyes are bloodshot from crying.

I hold my head in my hands, willing myself not to cry again and not here.

I take deep breaths, imagining Maverick and I lying in bed together — finding my happy place and teleporting to it.

A hand rests on my shoulder, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I look up and see Reilly smiling empathetically at me, and I place my hand on hers.

“Are you okay, Karina?” she whispers, trying to be discreet.

There’s nothing inconspicuous about how I must look in everyone else’s eyes right now, especially since I ran out of here like I was on fire.

“No, not even close. I will be, though. Thanks, Reilly,” I smile at her in the mirror, and she wraps her arms around me.

“If you need to talk, you know where to find me,” she winks, returning to her station.

People always say that when they don’t really care about your problems, but Reilly meant it when she said it. She seems genuine.

I have one more client on the books, and then I’ll clean every inch of this place if it’ll get me out of here quicker.

I feel trapped like an animal in a cage, pacing and waiting for the second I can escape.

I stand in the middle of my apartment, the door wide open, scanning the room and realizing how much has changed since the last time I was here.

Not counting the times I ran in to grab clothes or when I witnessed the wake of Asher’s anger.

I’m teleported back to the last time I slept here, and I remember how pissed at Maverick I was for the stupid fight we’d gotten into, and I planned to avoid him at all costs.

The days have felt like weeks since that happened, time blurring together to remind me that my life – hiding out with my asshole neighbor, trading secrets in the dark, practically living together domestically, and falling so fucking hard for him – isn’t normal.

Everything feels off-balance when I’m in my own apartment. I feel empty, like I’m missing pieces of me that are healing.

Maverick is what’s missing.

This place was just mine. I was always alone, mourning what my life could’ve been, hating Asher, and drinking to numb the pain.

I don’t belong here anymore.

Mav’s apartment feels like home. We’ve made his bare white walls our canvas, painting memories across every square inch.

I thought I’d have to be a million miles away from my ex to allow myself to be happy, to love and be loved, to heal the spaces he broke inside of me.

The realization hits me stone-cold.