Page 170 of Someone Like Me
When we hit the circle of light under a streetlamp, Drew stops. I’m on such a cloud I only notice when our hands go taut, and I halt like an anchored skiff. I look back to find Drew’s arched brow bearing down on me. He doesn’t exactly look angry, but he’s not thrilled either.
“What?”
“Should have told me, Evie.”
I blink. The joy I feel at having him back — having us back — is so rich, I am existing only in the present. It takes a couple of seconds to process what he’s saying. Then I do.
“I tried,” I tell him. “Every way I could think of that was safe.”
He frowns in question but doesn’t speak.
Such a Taurus.
“She was checking my phone thirty times a day. I tried calling you from the studio,” I say, shrugging, a tightness in my stomach elbowing its way into my joy. “You never answered. I even left voicemails… I figured you didn’t want to talk to me.”
I can’t help the hurt that comes through my voice, and Drew doesn’t miss it. His grip on my hand firms before he lets me go.
“Voicemails?” He reaches into his pocket and wakes up his phone. Its glow spotlights his face as he taps and glares at the screen. His eyes shift to me. “The two-three-two number?”
I nod.
Now he’s frowning for a completely different reason. “I thought that was the funeral home. Same prefix.”
My eyes bug. “You mean you didn’t listen to them?”
Drew’s mouth opens. Then closes. Even in the halflight, he looks a little sick. “Why listen to a voicemail if you’re just gonna call someone back?”
He taps the screen and my strained voice issues from the tiny speaker.“Drew, it’s Evie.Pleasecall me back at this number. Don’t call my cell. We need to talk—”
I wince and shake my head. “Turn it off. I don’t want to be back there.” I want the pain of the last three days as far away from me as possible. Since his hand isn’t free, I grip Drew’s arm. “All that matters now is it’s over.”
With a tap, the recording of my plea cuts off. He looks down at me, brows furrowed, mouth hard. “You left that yesterday.”
I want to speak but there’s now a knot in my throat. I nod instead.
Drew’s next words come out in a growl. “I could have had you back yesterday.”
I swallow hard. I know my eyes are filling with tears, but through their blur, I watch Drew shove his phone into his pocket. He sweeps me into his embrace and holds me tight against him.
He’s lost the jacket, but he’s still dressed in his funeral clothes, and I grip the crisp white shirt and bury my face against his chest. I don’t want to cry right now. I could have skipped on air a moment ago.
But the feelings of relief, the release of worry and heartache are too much.
Drew’s arm is like a steel bar, trapping me to him, but his fingers brush in gentle caresses on my shoulder. “She can’t hurt us anymore,” he murmurs.
I fight for control and shake my head. “It isn’t that. I just—” I hiccup as my voice catches, and I make myself look up at him. “The thought of losing you. It—”
“You’re not gonna lose me, Guppy.” His eyes are so fierce, unconquerable. I want so badly to believe him.
“But…” What happened is not his fault. This whole nightmare ended so much better than it could have. But I have to say it. “You didn’t even fight for me.”
Did I say he looked unconquerable? I was wrong. That strong facade just crumbled.
“Evie,” he says my name in a rasp, anguish in his eyes. “I was a fool.”
The bag of Purina One drops to the street, and both his arms close around me. I couldn’t move if I wanted to.
And I don’t.
