. . . a n o t h e r w e e k l a t e r . . .
The abusive texts have been coming thick and fast over the past week.. Each nastier and freakier than the last.. You scroll through the most recent ones;
'You'll be sorry you didn't follow the rules bitch..'
'Last time you were lucky, next time I'll stomp on your neck slut..'
'Why fight it when you know I always get what I want.. And what I want is for you to beg for mercy.. I'm going to make it happen, just watch you little cunt..'
'Tick-tock, times almost up...'
You shudder as you let the screen go dark, the phone clunks to the counter..
Patrick is supposed to be coming home today, and you're nervous to see him.. You're also way too excited and the combination of the two is almost nauseating.
You're anxious to tell him about these continued threats, but nervous because in the three weeks he's been gone, you've only spoken twice.. He had sent short text messages here and there with updates, but nothing overly sentimental.. Basically disappearing all over again..
So instead of saying all the things you had wanted to say you had replied in kind, keeping it short and succinct yourself..
Your phone ringer chimes.. And you look down to see a number with a local area code.. You cross back to the living room as you answer and press the phone to your ear..
You keep your voice down knowing Jackson is somewhere nearby, no doubt trying to give you some privacy like he does at around this time every day.. It's actually quite thoughtful of him when you think about it..
A solemn commanding female voice echos down the line.. "Hello, Miss Feilds?"
"Yes, this is she?"
"This is Detective Cooper from the Midtown Police Department. I'm sorry to disturb you but there has been a break-in at your apartment building and it appears your condo was the target of a fire bombing incident, I was hoping you could come down to the station and..."
The room tilts and sways and the detectives voice muffles as your heqd spins.. "Oh god.."
Patrick walks in through the door right at that moment, looking devastatingly good in casual jeans and a baseball-style shirt.. As soon as he sees your face he drops his duffle bag and strides over to you..
You push the phone into his hands and fall into his solid chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.. You can't help it, you just want to break down. His presence is the most comfort you've felt in weeks, the most at ease you have been since he walked out the door like a man on a mission. His citrusy scent soothes you as you burry your nose into the soft white cotton shirt..
A sculpted arm wraps around your shoulders and he looks down watching you, calmly but concerned, an ocean storm swelling in his blue eyes as he lifts the phone to his ear.. "Hello?.. No, sorry she's not.." He pauses to listen to the detective on the other end of the phone, a deep scowl settling across his gorgeous face.. "Yes, I'm her boyfriend.."
You pull back and look up at him in surprise.. You hadn't realised how badly you had wanted to hear those words from him until now.
After Zach, you didn't think you would ever want another boyfriend, fiancé or husband.. But Patrick.. He makes you wonder if maybe you had been to hasty to make that decision..
He smiles at you sweetly before growing serious again as he listens.. His jaw clenches tight and his bulky arm pulls you closer, hugging you tighter.. "I see.. Somebody will be there shortly to provide the information you require. Thank you, Detective.." He hangs up the phone and drops it on the side table, slinking down onto the empty sofa, taking you along with him onto his lap as his free hand smoothes up and down your back, alleviating your tension as he takes out his phone..
"Who are you calling now?
He doesn't look up from his sleek black cell to answer you, he just keeps scrolling until he finds the number and dials.. "Kirby.."