Page 214 of What We Break
"Good." He doesn't look at me. "I hope it's a long one."
He walks out. He doesn't slam the door. He just leaves it open, the cold night air rushing in to mix with the sawdust.
I stand there for a long time. My jaw throbs. My stomach aches.
I look at the mess on the floor. The screws. The glass.
Broken.
The anger and disgust and devastation rolls through me, and I black out a bit. When I come back to myself, my knuckles are split, and my fucking workshop is shattered.
It doesn't matter. None of this is mine anymore.
I pick up my phone. The screen is cracked from where I dropped it.
I dial Hatch.
"Get me on it."
"Blake—"
"Get me on that fucking transport, Hatch, or I swear to God?—"
"Okay." His voice is gentle now. Understanding. "Okay, kid. I'll make the call. But Blake? You better come back. You hear me? This isn't goodbye forever. Promise me?"
I hang up without answering.
Because I can't make that promise.
44
LAINE
My suitcase is open on the bed.
Just sitting there like a bad joke. The empty black cavern, the zippers waiting. It's exactly what Blake accused me of—being a flight risk. Being the girl who packs her life into two bags the second things get messy.
I stare at it. Am I really going to let a man chase me away from the life I've worked so hard to build?
Not a chance.
I slam the lid shut. It makes a satisfying thud, but it doesn't make me feel any better. I am not running. I might be single, I might be furious, and I might be currently spiraling, but I am not packing that bag.
I walk to the living room window because I need to look at something that isn't my own failure.
There's a truck parked across the street.
I squint. Ford. Dark. I can't read the lettering on the side from here, but I recognize it.
You have got to be kidding me.
Blake.
My stomach does a weird flip—half panic, half rage. He’s just sitting there. Dark cab. Engine off. Staring at my building like a creep.
What is he doing? Checking to see if I’ve left yet? Come to deliver one last insult? Or maybe he just wants to make sure the demolition is complete.
I should close the blinds. I should go to bed.
