Lose Control (The Jewel Project #5)

14.1|| Sleep in it

Returning to Chicago had a weird effect on Angie. It was like she'd never left and everything that had happened in Arizona was nothing but a bad dream. She wished it were, but the dirt and ash under her fingernails said otherwise. Even if she'd washed off most of the grime, it felt like it would never come off, not entirely.

She had blood on her hands.

But the pain, the realization that her childhood had gone down in flames, it was all muted as she returned to her new life. Time held meaning again and she realized she'd been missing for a week. How, she wasn't sure. As much as she tried, she couldn't explain where the days had gone, what she'd been doing for so long. It felt like a day, maybe two at most to her, even with all the crying and passing out. No wonder Philip had been so worried about her.

Now it was time for a heavy dose of reality. Her stomach tightened at the thought of reaching home, seeing Tom again. He'd be mad, so mad at her for disappearing, but she still couldn't remember where she'd left he phone.

It would be okay. He'd scream and rage at her, but then they'd make up and he'd love and comfort her because he was awesome like that. He'd understand. He had to.

As long as he hears you out.

Yes, that would be an issue. But she had to have faith. At this point, she had no choice. And yet, the closer she got to the apartment, the more it hurt. Getting out of the cab was a pain. The ride up in the elevator was torture. When she reached the door, her hand shook so badly, she could hardly fit the key in the lock.

She pushed the door open. The apartment was silent. For a second, she lingered in the threshold, but the familiarity lessened her fear. It smelled like Tom, like them, it was warm and welcoming. So she stepped in and closed the door, hear hearing strained for sounds of movement. As she dropped her backpack on the couch, she froze. Her phone was right there on the coffee table, and yet she was sure she hadn't left it home.

"Tom?" she called, even if she was sure he wasn't there. But the presence of her phone meant he knew she wasn't ignoring him, knew she didn't have it.

Her chest swelled with hope as she turned it on. It was charged, too, cared for.

Texts. She had so many texts. And out of all of them, one stood out.

I told you what would happen if you did this again. I wasn't even worth thirty seconds. We're done.

She stared at it, then stared some more. There was no way this was happening. Before that text, he'd just asked her if she wanted take out. Tears filled her eyes when she'd been sure she didn't have any left. Yet there they were, crawling down her cheeks as her mind failed to compute what her heart had already understood.

Trying to find some hidden meaning, she focused on her phone again. She had a voice message, so she decided to focus on that instead. To her shock, it was from Tom. A slightly slurring and obviously drunk Tom who was somewhere really loud. But his words... His words gave her hope, even if his drunken conclusion was that they'd broken up.

She had to call him and then figure out just what the hell had happened while she'd been gone.

Having no idea why her hand was shaking, he dialed his number. It rang once, twice, three times, then...

"Angie?" His tone was rightfully full of disbelief.

"Hi," she whispered. "I'm home."

Pause. Such a long painful pause.

"We need to talk." Which was the understatement of the century.

More nervewrecking pause. "Stay there. I'm coming over." And he just hung up on her.