Page 37 of Inseparable
“I’m fine.”
“Call me if you need me, no matter what time. You need me, I’m there.”
I lean up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. “You mean the world to me, you know that, right?”
“Ditto, sweetheart.” He tweaks my nose, and then we part ways.
Mom has already left for the hospital, so I ping her a quick text to let her know I’m home. I texted her earlier, so she knew to expect a call from the school, and she sends me back a brief message letting me know she fixed everything with Principal Wells.
My mom is the coolest mom on the planet.
After taking a long, hot soak in the tub, I pin my wet hair into a messy bun on top of my head and wander to my bedroom to get stuck into homework. A loud rap on the French doors surprises me a couple hours later. I don’t look up. I don’t need to. I know who it is and I can’t believe he has the nerve to show up here. Red-hot rage replaces the blood coursing through my veins as I hop up and stalk to the doors.
“Go away!” I hiss, opening the doors a tiny fraction. “I don’t ever want to see you again.”
“Ange, please.” He throws out his hand, pushing the door open wider and forcing his way inside. “You need to let me explain.”
“I don’t need to let you do anything, and I won’t listen to any more of your lies!” I shout, and he flinches. “I fucking hate you, Devin. I hate you more than I hate any other living thing.”
His fingers wind around my wrist. “Ange, I know you don’t mean that.”
I jab my finger in his chest, nostrils flaring, veins pumped full of angry adrenaline. “Then I guess you know nothing, because I mean every word that comes out of my mouth. You disgust me. You make me sick, and, quite frankly, Becky is welcome to you. You two deserve each other.”
“It’s not what it seems.”
I snort with laughter, yanking my wrist out of his grasp. “I don’t want to hear it, Devin. I’m done with this. With you. I want you to get out and stay out.”
He reaches for me again, and I lurch back, stumbling over my feet and falling flat on my ass.
“Please, baby doll. Please let me explain.”
I lose control of my tenuous emotions, climbing to my feet with my fists clenched. “I told you I don’t want to fucking hear it!” I screech, shoving him hard. He falls back, a look of shock splayed across his face. “I saw everything I needed to today.” My head whips around, and I’m racing across the room in a flash. Grabbing the picture he drew of me, I stomp toward him, shoving it in his chest. “And you can take this. I don’t want it.” I cast a glance around my bedroom, mentally picking out the things that belong to him. I dart around the room, picking up his sweaters, shirts, books, DVDs, CDs, and other stuff that belongs to him. His worn boxing gloves and the trophy he won at the Iowa High School State Boxing Tournament are added to my pile. His face is a mask of calm as he silently watches me dashing around the room like a madwoman. I return to his side thrusting my bundle into his arms.
“If I find anything else, I’ll box it up and leave it on your porch.”
“I don’t want this stuff. I gave it to you.”
He tries to hand it back to me, but I step aside. “I don’t want it. I want no reminder of you here. I’m going to remove every trace of your existence until you are nothing but a figment of my rotten imagination.”
Troubled eyes meet mine. “Don’t do this. I’m begging you. I need you to remember what I said. I—”
“Do I look like I give a flying fuck?!” I holler, incensed beyond the point of rage. I shove him again, and the urge to hit something, hithim, is almost overwhelming. I’ve never been prone to violence, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. “Get out. Get out or I’m calling the cops. And don’t ever come back here again,” I threaten, vowing to get a lock on those doors, or to barricade them altogether.
“Fine. Have it your way, but I’m not taking this stuff.” He dumps it all on top of my dresser. “I understand you’re mad, but you’ll thank me when you calm down.” He opens the doors and steps out onto the balcony. A switch flips inside me at his words and his irritatingly cool demeanor. How dare he show up here acting like he hasn’t done anything wrong. Like he hasn’t ripped my heart to shreds, and left my self-confidence and my reputation in tatters on the floor.
I lose all sense of reason.
A primitive roar escapes my mouth, and I snatch the items up, throwing them over the balcony at him as he scrambles down the tree. He looks up at me like I’ve lost my mind.
Perhaps I have.
One by one, I fling items at him, aiming for his head as rage does a complete number on me. “I hate you!” I scream, throwing a bunch of CDs. They clatter to the ground, breaking apart. The items of his clothing are next. He’s on the ground now, with his hands in his pockets, looking up at me with the saddest expression on his face. I throw the trophy at his head, but my aim is off, and it bounces on the ground to his left. “Stay the fuck away from me, Devin!”
I pick up the last item, hurling the framed picture at his head with all the strength I can muster. This time my aim is bang on. He ducks down, barely avoiding impact. The glass frame shatters into a million tiny shards at his feet. “And you can take your empty words and shove them where the sun doesn’t shine!” I yell.
I slam the double doors shut, as a warm arm slides around my waist from behind. “Shush, Lina. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
I collapse against Ayden’s chest, crying hysterically as I watch Devin bend down, picking up his belongings off the ground. He retrieves the drawing from behind the broken glass, carefully rolling it up and tucking it under his arm. He casts one last look in our direction, and I yank the curtains across the doors, plunging us into darkness.
