Liv
I hadn’t been able to sleep since he stormed out of the house. I let him have his space and texted him to be careful and not to drink or take any drugs since he’s driving. I don’t know what I would do if he got hurt because of me. The stupid fight I brought up. Grey’s an asshole. I’ve known that since the second he opened his mouth. I’ve just about forgot and gave up on the fight as the hours ticked and stopped at one in the morning.
At that moment, I just wanted him home. Safe and sound.
When my phone finally rang after hours of silence, I felt my heart drop. My mind raced with pessimistic thoughts. I hadn’t heard from him all day, and then he was just calling me up out of the blue? But then I began to think the worst possible thing: what if it’s the hospital or a cop to inform me the worst has happened…? It didn’t help when I flipped my phone over and saw an unknown number. At almost two in the morning. After my hot-headed, angry boyfriend stalked out of the house.
I burst into tears on the spot and thought the worst had come. All because I couldn’t just think about what he was going through. I know about his disorder. And I know how territorial it can make him, plus he hates Noah. I should be used to his crude remarks and asshole ways. I didn’t care about any of it if he has hurt himself.
I scrambled to answer the phone and let out a huge breath of relief when the person on the other line revealed themselves to be an automated device for the police department. I was ecstatic because he was behind bars, safe, and not injured or dead. I know how he craves alcohol when his anger flares. I would take him being jailed over staying in the morgue any and every day.
My heart unclutched from the little ball it formed into, and I left the house in a messy ponytail, one of his shirts, and a pair of shorts. I looked like a mess, but it didn’t matter. I took a cab to the station and prepared for the worst, money-wise and charge-wise. I’m sure he has a lot of strikes against him, considering how just last month I bailed him out of this very station. I was a nervous wreck as I stood in a short line to reach the woman in the front. I mentally prepared myself to be read a list of the charges and his intoxication while driving. Oh, the damage he could have done. Both to himself and others.
Tears stung in my eyes.
“Next,” the woman calls.
I walk up to her and lick my lips nervously before saying, “I’m here for Grey Wyler.”
She nodded with a lackluster look, typing his name in her computer. “He was picked up for damaging a bar by the name Lucky Joe’s.”
“Oh no…was he intoxicated or anything?” I ask anxiously, pulling my lip.
She glances at the screen and shakes her head no. “Sober,” she answers, and I don’t hold back my sigh. She gives me a look. “Bail is two-fifty.”
I nod. “Thank you.” I give her a tight-lipped smile and walk over to the processing desk. I sit down and wait for a few minutes until it is my turn. I quickly pay and, while I wait for the transaction and paperwork to be handled, I ask to be taken back like last time. But the man tells me Grey doesn’t want to see me.
My stomach drops.
“What?”