Ms. Devila (Prisoner 4-0-9 Sequel)

Chapter 3 - So, I called.

"I made you some tea." Rex calls from the other side of the door, and I stand, opening it up for him. He had a little tray with a cup of tea, some buttered biscuits, grapes, and a chocolate bar.

"What an unusual dinner," I couldn't help but smile as I take it from him. "Thanks Rex."

He nods. "Get some rest, Ms. Devila. Goodnight." 

I shut the door and place the tray on my nightstand, before plopping onto my bed. 

Surprisingly, when I got home, I didn't curl into my bed and cry. The first thing I did was dig for the number and punch it into my phone. But I couldn't press call.

I wanted to call, and selfishly rant about my parents who disowned me a few years back, when I left with Dain. I wanted to say how much . . .  I missed them, and how I couldn't believe that after 8 years my father couldn't get over it.

But I couldn't do that.

Just call.

I stare at the phone in my hands, and shut my eyes, as ringing showed up on the screen.

I brought it up to my ears, and my heart stops as I hear the click sound.

But it wasn't Trevor at the other end of the phone.

"Ciao?" The voice was soft and gentle, a little girly too. I didn't know what to say, my heart echoing in my chest. 

(Hello?)

"Ciao?" The voice repeats, still patient and waiting for me to speak up but I couldn't, I mean what could I possibly say to her, whoever she was? I couldn't even speak Italian.

I hear a door open and shut.

"Chi è?" Trevor spoke just as gently to her, and I couldn't help as my hand shook, my eyes wide as the phone shuffles a bit, and suddenly, I hear him speak.

(Who is it?)

"Ocean." I gasp, and end the call, throwing the phone across the room. 

A sudden coldness comes over me, as I stare at it in confusion. He knew it was me. I slowly lift my hand towards my throat, and rub tenderly as I felt a dull ache. I wanted to cry.

Maybe it was hearing his voice, maybe it was hearing her voice, whatever it was, it was strong and overwhelming.

Emma made it sound like Trevor was going through severe depression, he sounded a lot more than fine over the phone. Now I just feel pathetic and alone.

Did he really move on? 

I would never blame him if he did though, I did this, I pushed him away, and now . . . there was really nothing that I could do about it.

#

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine, Rex. Stop worrying about me."

"Alright well, don't forget we have a flight this evening."

"Where are we going again?"

"We're going to Canada, you have the convention."

I turn to him, furrowing my eyebrows.

He gives me a flat look.

"The Mental Health Counsellors convention, you have to speak there."

"Oh . . . speak about what?"

"Well, I'm not a therapist, am I? I just drive one around."

I roll my eyes at Rex, as we continue to walk to my office. I greet all of my employees and once at the door he hands me the lunch that he prepared.