Page 154 of Someone Like Me
“No! No!” I shriek.
Tori throws up her hands in frustration. “Well, let’s get on with it then.”
Anguish tightens around my throat. I can’t even see my phone’s screen. Blindly, I tap in my passcode and then just stare at the swimming letters of Drew’s last text.
I miss you.
“Oh, God,” I mutter, sinking to the couch.
In a flash of movement, Tori rips the phone from me. “Give me that. I’ll fucking do it.”
“Tori!” I grab, but she bats me away. “Damn you! Give it back!” Panic and outrage overtake me. No fucking way. No way will I let him think her words are mine.
“Ow!” Surprised, Tori draws back her wrist, which now bears the mark of my nails, but I hold my phone. She’s writtenWe need to talk,but, thank God she didn’t press send. I erase her words and begin with the only ones I want to tell him. Tori peers at my screen and makes a derisive noise, but says nothing.
Me: I love you, Drew.
A sob quakes through me. Even through my tears, I see his dots bouncing, his heart already answering mine.
Drew: I love you, Guppy. You okay?
Oh my God. How does he know? I break down completely. He is my love. I vow in this moment not to lie to him. I won’t tell him what I can’t tell him. But I refuse to lie.
Me: No. I’m not. Something’s happened. Can you meet me after work? At my parents’ house?
His response is immediate.
Drew: What’s wrong?
I can feel his tension, his worry and protection for me, and I fall apart.I have to protect him,I remind myself. And it’s only this thought that makes it possible to go on.
Me: I can’t tell you now. Please come when you can. I’ll be here.
“Good girl,” Tori says, her voice dripping with satisfaction.
I say nothing. I will never speak to her again.
Drew: On my way.
I bury my face into the couch cushions, my heart an open wound.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
DREW
I pull up to the Lalonde’s house, confused as hell. I was in the middle of an oil change when Evie texted me. I finished up, clocked out, and scrubbed my hands in the bathroom for at least five minutes, but they’re still dirty.
I glance down at my grimy nails once more before looking up at Evie’s picture perfect home. Her parents should be on their way back to Nigeria. At least, they should have left a couple of hours ago. As I slam the heavy door of Grandma’s Buick behind me, I wonder if plans have changed.
My eyes flick again to the grease-marked cracks in my calloused palms, and I wince. I’d rather not shake Evie’s father’s hand like this. With a sigh, I climb the steps to their front porch, remembering the other two times I was here. Once to tell off Dick Face Drake. The other to get an ass-chewing from Tori.
Yeah, no real positive associations here.
I mutter a curse under my breath and ring the doorbell. It echoes within the house, but only silence follows. I wait. Frowning, I ring it again. And then I hear a muffled voice. It sounds like Evie, but… different.
The door swings open, and Evie sags against the doorframe. At first I think she’s doubled over with laughter, and then I think she’s sick. She’s a mess. Her face is blotchy, her eyes streaming. Her turned down mouth is open in a gasp, as though she’s in pain. It’s only when I reach for her and her sob breaks that I realize she’s crying.
Uncontrollably crying.
