Desire_A Romance Collection

by Mia Ford

  “Seriously?” I scoffed. “You do know I’ll probably kill him if I see him again, right?”

  “I’ll pretend that I didn’t hear that,” Jeremy scolded, shooting me a frustrated glare. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

  “You want to do something for me? Find that son of a bitch and arrest him.”

  “We’re trying,” Jeremy said.

  “Mansfield’s a small town, Jeremy,” I sighed. “How many places could he be hiding in?”

  “Have you forgotten what the woods look like?” Jeremy asked, leaning back in his chair. “We used to get lost in there when we were kids, remember? He could park his car anywhere and just disappear for as long as he wants to.”

  “This isn’t the fucking rainforest.”

  “How about you let us do our job,” Jeremy said, “and stick to what you do best, okay? No more fights, Andy, I’m serious. For now, we’re sending a cruiser to Bobby’s place to keep an eye out for Dennis. If he shows up anywhere near the place, we’ll take care of him.”

  “Whatever,” I sighed. “Can I go?”

  Jeremy nodded. I snatched my coat off his desk and stormed out of the station.

  The sun had already begun to set, and I had to walk all the way back to the coffee shop where my car was parked. I slid my coat on, zipped it up and braced myself against the wind that had started to pick up. Autumn was coming in, and the weather would start to get colder at night. Which meant if Dennis really was hiding in the woods, he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long.

  The walk cleared my mind, and I began to calm down. My hand began to throb even more, and the pain set in quickly. I contemplated going to the hospital, but quickly dismissed the idea once I had reached my car and was sitting behind the wheel. I took out my phone and dialed Andrea. When she didn’t answer, I tried Bobby.

  “Dammit, Andy, I’ve been trying to reach you,” Bobby said when he picked up.

  “Yeah, I saw the missed calls,” I replied, turning the key in the ignition and leaning back in the seat, closing my eyes.

  “Where are you?”

  “At the coffee shop,” I said. “Had a nice chat with the good men in blue.”

  “Jeremy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He didn’t hit you with a fine, did he?”

  “Of course not,” I scoffed. “But they sure as hell are treating this whole thing like it’s nothing.”

  “They didn’t get Dennis?”

  “No, the bastard skipped before they came,” I said. “Listen, Andrea’s not answering her phone.”

  Bobby hesitated before saying, “She’s locked herself in her room. Won’t even talk to me.”

  I shifted the car into reverse and pulled out of the parking space. “I’m on my way.”

  “No, go home,” Bobby said. “She just needs some time. She’s in shock. By morning she’ll be fine again. I’m thinking of getting her out of Mansfield, maybe driving up to Maine, spend some time with my aunt until we get the divorce process underway.”

  I clenched my teeth. The last thing I wanted was for Andrea to leave, but I had little say in the matter. Especially if she agreed with Bobby, which I felt she would after what had happened.

  “Andy?”

  “I’ll pass by you in the morning,” I said, fighting back the urge to argue with him. If I really did care about Andrea, getting her out of Mansfield was probably the best thing to do. I knew I could convince her to stay, but I couldn’t be selfish and risk her getting hurt. I needed her to be safe.

  I hung up, shifted into drive, and made my way home, feeling shittier by the second.

  ***

  I was into my fourth drink when the doorbell rang.

  I rushed to the door, fully expecting it to be Andrea and wondering how she had convinced Bobby to drive her here. I opened the door, ready to swoop her into my arms, when I saw Hannah standing there instead.

  “What the –”

  Hannah quickly raised both hands up, a bottle of Jack Daniels in one and a white handkerchief in the other. She waved the handkerchief lazily. “Truce,” she said. “I’m not here to fight.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  She dropped her hands and shot me an annoyed glare. “Are you going to leave me out here?”

  “Pretty much.”

  She sighed. “I ran into Jeremy,” she said. “He told me you were in some kind of fist fight today. I’m just checking on you and brought you a bottle to show that I’m not angry anymore.”

  I looked at her for a beat, trying to discern whether she was telling the truth or just playing with me. She smiled and held the bottle up again. I sighed and stepped out of the way, letting her in.

  “Thank you,” she said, making straight for the kitchen. “I see you’ve already started without me.”

  I closed the door and trudged back to the couch, collapsing onto it with a grunt. I could hear Hannah opening and closing cabinets, the clink of glasses, the sound of the whiskey bottle’s cap being opened. I realized that this was probably the longest time she had spent in my apartment with her clothes still on. I closed my eyes and covered my face with my arm, trying to get my head to stop spinning.

  “So, are you going to tell me what happened?” Hannah asked, handing me my glass and sitting in the seat opposite me, folding her leg underneath her as she made herself comfortable.

  “What do you care?” I asked.

  “Come on, Andy, I called truce,” she said. “I’m trying to be civil here.”

  I groaned and sat up, downing my drink quickly and slamming the cup down.

  “That bad, huh?” Hannah commented.

  “You know, I’m finding it very strange that you’re actually here just to make sure I’m alright,” I said, feeling the words slur in my mouth. “After I kicked you out, and after that little piece of art you left on my door, I have to say, this is quite surprising.”

  “Not so crazy after all, huh?”

  I looked at her through heavy lids, frowning.

  “Yeah, I know what people say about me,” Hannah said, lifting her glass in a toast. “I might be a pervert, Andy, but I’m not crazy. I’m just possessive, and I’m not ashamed of admitting it. What’s mine is mine.”

  “I was never yours,” I said.

  She looked at me for a few seconds, then shrugged. “We were good together. The best sex I ever had. I guess I just didn’t want to share it.”

  “And the whole let’s-not-be-exclusive agreement?”

  “I never said I was perfect,” she countered.

  I’d say.

  I rubbed my hand, trying to stop the throbbing, and only then realized the ripped skin around my knuckles. They were going to leave a nasty scab.

  “Is this the point in the story where you tell me I should see the other guy?” Hannah asked, gesturing at my hand with her glass.

  I chuckled. “I wish I could remember what he looked like when they pulled me off him,” I said. “I was too angry to take a proper mental photograph.”

  “Bottled up frustration?” She smiled. “Is this what you do when you’re not fucking me?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  She laughed and got up, taking my glass back to the kitchen for a refill.

  “At least tell me this wasn’t over some girl,” she said. “Because honestly, that would just be sad.”

  “Hannah, seriously, I appreciate the gesture, but I think we’re past the point where you take an interest in my life that is cute and charming.”

  She handed me the refill and sat down on the couch beside me. She looked at me, hard and long, and clinked her glass against mine. “Drink up, fire man. I’m just here as a friend, if that’s okay. Nothing more. To be honest, I think I’m over you.”

  “That fast?” I asked, gulping down my drink. “What happened to being possessive and all that other crap?”

  She shrugged. “We were good, but I can’t force you to stay with me. It’s frustrating, for both of us. And besid
es, I was starting to really live up to my nickname. I mean, I was actually stalking you.”

  “Yeah, that was weird,” I agreed.

  The swimming in my head intensified, and I felt a raging headache coming on. It was taking all my energy just to keep my eyes open, and soon enough my vision began to blur.

  “I’m getting a little tired,” I said. “Thanks for passing by, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

  “Are you sure?” she asked. “I could stick around. I have nowhere to be.”

  “I’m fine, seriously,” I said. “Thanks.”

  “Do you want another drink?”

  I frowned at her, then looked at her glass. Through the haze in my head, I noticed that she hadn’t taken a single sip.

  “I’m good,” I said. “I’ve had enough for one night.”

  The spinning got worse, and I found myself putting in a lot of effort just to keep my eyes open. And for some reason, there was a strange aftertaste in my mouth.

  “You know, I heard that Bobby’s sister’s been hanging out here a lot,” Hannah said. “Spent the night actually, right?”

  I opened my mouth to ask her how the hell she knew that, but my tongue felt heavy, and all I could was grunt.

  “Funny thing, that,” she continued. “I actually thought you were just being nice because she was Bobby’s sister. I didn’t know you actually liked her. Made me kind of jealous.”

  I looked at her, unable to focus on her face. But her smile was undeniable.

  “What did you -?” The words came out forced, heavy. They echoed in my ears, almost as if someone else was talking.

  “I told you, Andy,” she said. “I’m very possessive. And you’re mine. I’m not sharing you with anyone, and especially not with that slut.”

  I looked down at my empty glass, quickly putting two and two together as the world around me spun out of control. She drugged me. The bitch put something in my drink.

  I grabbed her by the collar of her shirt, but the grip was pathetic, and she easily pushed my hand away. I fell back, my eyes closing quickly until I could see nothing but darkness.

  Chapter 15: Andrea

  I lay in bed, curled into a fetal position, hugging my knees and my eyes burning with tears.

  It was over.

  Dennis had found me, and he had ruined everything, just as he had done with my entire life so far. I had never thought I could hate someone so much, but I genuinely loathed him, and although I was crying like a child, I was furious. A part of me wished he had actually taken me back to Manchester. I would have gone quietly, taken the beating, and then, when he was asleep, stabbed him so many times you couldn’t see where one stab ended and the other began.

  I wanted to kill him. I wanted this nightmare to be over. I wanted him out of my life, and preferably, buried so deep in the ground, there would be no way to dig him back out, even if someone wanted to.

  Bobby tried to get me to talk several times, knocking on my door and calling my name before disappearing, only to dutifully return ten minutes later. By the fourth or fifth time, he gave up, and I could hear him close his bedroom door, and the sound of his bathroom shower coming on as he readied himself for bed.

  I cried harder. I replayed the incident at the coffee shop in my head. Seeing Andy that way only made me cry harder. I was grateful for what he had done for me, loved him for it actually, but hated what he would have had to suffer in return. I had heard Bobby talking to him downstairs, and although I couldn’t make out all the words, I knew that Andy was alright. I felt better for it.

  But I also knew Dennis had slipped away. That worried me more than the fear I had for Andy’s wellbeing.

  You need to go to him.

  But how? Bobby was keeping a close eye on me, and with Dennis out and about, how safe was I out on the streets alone? Would he be waiting outside for me to do something stupid? Was he anticipating how naïve I would be?

  I shook, overwhelmed with a mix of feelings ranging from anger to fear. I was frustrated that I couldn’t do anything, that I was helpless and weak. I felt like I was back in Manchester, accepting the inevitable, coming to terms with the harsh reality that I would forever be a mouse in a maze, racing in circles and going nowhere.

  How could I be so stupid? How did I think I could live a normal life?

  I had the audacity to hope. And it came back to bite me in the ass.

  Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had to see Andy. I had to make sure he was okay, see it for myself, and not just be content with the scattered words of a phone call he made to Bobby.

  You should have answered your phone when he called you.

  But I hadn’t been able to. Ever since we had gotten home, I had been hiding in my room, laying in the same position, terrified to move. I was in no position to answer my phone. And besides, what was I going to say? I’m sorry my crazy husband took his frustration out on you?

  Then go see him.

  I had to. I needed to.

  I tried to push myself up and realized that I couldn’t. I was so petrified, I had frozen myself in place. I closed my eyes, willed my muscles to move, but nothing happened. My body was fighting me, adamant on staying hidden behind the closed door where no one could hurt me.

  Get up!

  I tried again, and this time, I was able to curl out of my fetal position, my muscles screaming in protest and the joints in my limbs popping. Only then did I realize how tense I had been, how locked into place I had forced my body to be.

  I groaned as I rolled my legs off the side of the bed and forced myself into a sitting position. My head was swimming, and I was exhausted from all the crying. I wiped my eyes, contemplated washing my face, then decided against it. I didn’t want Bobby hearing me move about. It might make him feel like I was ready to talk, and he’d come back. I wanted him to think I had fallen asleep. I needed him to fall asleep so I can get on with what I wanted to do.

  I looked around my room, briefly taking note of where my keys and ID were, keeping my ears pierced for any movement in Bobby’s room. I heard his bed springs as he climbed into bed, then took out my phone and put it on airplane mode. I wanted to make a silent exit and didn’t want to risk any notifications giving me away. I looked at the time, and watched the numbers change until ten minutes had passed.

  No sound came from Bobby’s room. I waited for another ten minutes, and when I could hear his distant snoring, I got up, slowly, making sure my own bed springs didn’t ruin the stealth I would require to leave. I tiptoed across my room, grabbed my keys and ID and pocketed them, and quietly turned my bedroom knob until the door swung open. It squeaked, and I quickly stopped it, opting to slide through the narrow opening and close it behind me again, making sure it stayed closed and didn’t swing open on its own when I left it.

  I made my way downstairs, quietly, avoiding the parts of the stairs I knew would creak under my weight. When I was downstairs, I reached for the lights, and froze. No. No lights. I could make my way through the house in the dark. Deep down I knew it didn’t matter if the lights were on or not, but for some odd reason, I didn’t want to risk it.

  I stealthily made my way to the end of the hall, pulled on my sneakers, and then backtracked to the garage door. My car was snuggled up in there, and I began to think of ways to get it out without making a racket while opening the garage door. Nothing came to mind, and I realized that the only solution was to act fast. Once the garage doors began to roll up, the machinery would definitely wake Bobby up. That is, if the growl of the car engine didn’t.

  Screw it. You’ve come this far. By the time he realizes what’s going on, you’ll be halfway down the block.

  I bit my lip, fiddled with the car keys, and decided to go for it. I opened the driver’s door, put the key in the ignition and turned. The engine purred like a cat, thankfully causing less noise than I had hoped. The garage doors were a different matter, though. The minute I clicked on the automatic opener, the cogs squealed in protest before turnin
g slowly and bringing the doors up. I quickly got in the car, closed the door, and drummed my fingers against the steering wheel.

  “Come on, come on, come on,” I whispered. I half expected the garage lights to come on and Bobby to rush up in front of the car, stopping me. When did I become so afraid of my own brother?

  I began to think that I might be getting used to running away from places in the middle of the night.

  As soon as the doors had risen enough for me to drive through, I shifted the car into drive and raced out, clicking the ‘closed’ button as I exited the driveway and turned right down the street. I briefly caught sight of a police cruiser parked outside the house on the other side of the street. Were they there for us?

  I didn’t care. All I wanted now was to get to Andy. That’s all that mattered.

  I drove down Davis Road well over the speed limit, hoping I wouldn’t run into any trouble on the way. I kept my eyes glued to the road, only briefly glancing in the rearview mirror, making sure no one was following me. Every now and then, a pair of headlights would pop up, then turn right onto one of the side streets and disappear. For most of the drive, I was alone.

  I rushed past the STOP sign on Maple Road, again ignoring all traffic rules in favor of getting to Andy as quickly as possible. I reached for my phone, thinking it best to call him and let him know I was coming. For all I knew, he might not even be home. My hand searched my pockets, and I began to panic when I found nothing. I slammed my fists against the steering wheel, realizing that I had forgotten the phone back in my bedroom.

  You’re already making stupid mistakes. This should be a sign. Turn the car around and drive back home.

  No. A hiccup, that’s all this was. I didn’t need the phone. Andy would be home. Where else could he be? Of course, he was home.

  I turned onto Silo Road, entering Juniper Hill and resting a little easier now that I was closer to my destination. I glanced up at the rearview mirror, saw nothing, and eased my foot off the gas pedal. I wasn’t in a rush anymore. I turned left into Silo Circle, cruising the car around until I found a parking space close to Andy’s apartment complex. I caught sight of his Nissan parked a few plots away and let out a relieved sigh.