Page 52 of Save Me

My heart is racing, and my fingers are a bit clammy. Quickly, I portion out the food and wrap the plates in tinfoil, sticking them in the fridge. Then, with the thoughts screaming in my head, I dart to my car even though I don’t need to leave for work yet, and peel out of the driveway.

It was a stupid idea to try to engage with Micah anyway. I know better than to get close to people, even if it’s fake. This was on me.

Good thing I grabbed a bottle of Southern Comfort at the store; I’m gonna need it.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

What day is it? Scratch that, what year is it?

I blink, feeling like my eyes are glued shut with gunk. My knee itches, and I reach my hand down to scratch it, but when I do, it hurts.

Hurts?

Slowly, I glance over at my phone. And that’s when last night creeps back to me.

Holy fudgesicle.

I sit straight up. I planned a…my stomach revolts at the idea. I never pictured myself planning something so cold-blooded. Can I live with myself knowing I’ve helped off someone?

Then I think about what Arthur did to Maddox, and my stomach revolts again.

Meh. I can live with myself. Guilt is reserved for doing something wrong. Ridding the world of an abuser isn’t wrong, and anyone who thinks so is part of the problem.

I wonder what Maddox would think, knowing Arthur is gone. Well, not gone yet. I guess they’re still gathering information on him. But what he’d think if Arthur were gone. I wonder if I’d see joy and relief on his face, knowing that Arthur finally got what was coming to him.

I check if Maddox ever responded to my messages, and that’s when I see he did a few hours ago. Immediately, I feel like jumping straight up in the air. Cheese and crackers, he did!

I devour the messages like they’re gooey cinnamon rolls right out of the oven.

Maddox made me a meal. Maddox made me food?? Me?

My vision gets cloudy. No one makes me food, not even my parents. They always hired someone to do that. It makes a little spot in my chest feel warm and fuzzy. Like it’s Christmas, but not Christmas as an adult, Christmas as a kid, when things are still magical.

My phone and I are out of bed and down the steps before I realize I haven’t thrown a shirt on. It’s too late to stop though, and I go sliding into the kitchen on my socked feet.

Maddox isn’t here.

I glance around. The condo is quiet, minus the disgruntled thump of Princess jumping out of bed. A quick peek outside shows Maddox’s car is gone.

I’m punched in the gut with something that feels cold and harsh. Why isn’t he here?

I check my messages again. It’s been almost three hours since he sent the last message.

Oh fudge, I didn’t even respond. He probably thinks I ignored him! A wash of frantic energy fills me, and I text back.

Me: Dagnabbit! I’m so sorry, I just woke up!

Me: Thank you so much, no one has ever done that for me before!

A quick check in the fridge makes me feel even more guilty because there is a plate measured out, covered in tinfoil. I check, and inside is a steak, some fries, and broccoli.

That does it. I’m the worst person in the world. Maddox tried to do something nice, and I completely ruined it.

Maddox doesn’t reply, and for a minute I wallow in a rollercoaster of self-loathing and elation. Maddox thought of me! He made my favorite meal! And I ruined that small gesture of trust. To drown my sorrows, I pull out the plate of food, nuke it in the microwave, and try it.

It’s really freaking good.

And then as I eat, I break out of it because I can totally win that trust back. Totally! It doesn’t take me long to think of the best way. He made me my favorite meal, so I’ll make his favorite for him!