Not Looking For Love: Episode 5 Read Free

smacking my head against the headboard. He's staring at me from under his eyebrows, his eyes grey like the cold dawn outside, and I know my mouth is open wide, my eyes bulging out, but there's nothing I can do to stop it. For as long as I live, I will never understand how he can go from the blue eyed Scott who doesn't want to hurt me, to this cold menacing stranger in the space it takes other people to take a breath. And then he does it again, as his hand gropes for mine, and his eyes turn the color of a sunny spring morning, right after a hard rain.
    "Or maybe it wouldn't," he whispers.
    I grip his hand in both of mine, but don't lean against him again.
    He sighs and leans his head back, staring up at the ceiling. "It's gonna be such a long day today."
    "What are you going to do?" I ask, terror's iron fist gripping my throat, making my voice squeaky and brittle. I can't stop picturing the cold morgue, the bloody sheet.
    "I'm gonna go see my dad. Hopefully Marjorie won't be there anymore, but she probably slept over. Then I'll probably have to finish the shit Mike started last night—"
    "No!" the yell leaves my mouth faster than the thought which preceded it. He winces because my nails are digging into his palm and shakes off my hand.
    "There's no other way, Gail," he says evenly like he's talking to a dumb five year old. "No one wants me over there. Mike probably spoke for all of them when he came at me with the bat last night. But I think I kinda have to go see them anyway."
    "How can you say that?" I shriek. His eyes are the color of dirty snow again, none of it melting.  
    "Which part?" he asks, like I'm the one talking dumb.
    "All of it. Scott, accidents happen. Your brother went to prison instead of you, I'm sure he could see something like this as a possibility."
    "How does that change anything?"  
    His chest is heaving, rosy color rising in his cheeks. And I have no words with which to make it alright. His phone rings somewhere by the door, and I scramble off the bed to get it for him, thankful this conversation is paused for now.  
    I hand him his jacket and sit on the edge of the bed, as he fishes the phone from the pocket.
    "Yeah," he says.
    "Where are you, Scott?" I hear Andrew's voice through the phone, clear like he's on speakerphone.
    Scott's eyes lock on mine, and there's no trace of ice or snow in them now, like it all melted while I wasn't looking. "Around, why?"
    "I have a locksmith here, at your place. Come get the keys," Andrew says, and Scott mutters OK, already climbing off my bed, holding the phone against his shoulder and cradling his left arm in his right.
    "I have to go now," he tells me, releasing his phone so it bounces off the bed and lands on the floor.
    I get up too and look around for my jeans. "I'm coming with you."
    "No, Gail." He's already pulling on his pants, wincing, his eyes frozen again.
    I walk over and help him dress, standing so close my head brushes his chin as I straighten up. "I want to help you with this. You'd do the same for me."
    He gazes at me for a moment, his expression stuck between the mean, menacing Scott, and the one who loves me. "It could get nasty."
    "Which is exactly why I should be there."
    He lays his hand on my lower back and pulls me closer, resting his cheek on the top of my head. "No, Gail. That's why you shouldn't be there."
      He smells of clean sea air, my fabric softener and alcohol, and I wrap my arms around his waist, pressing my head into his chest. His heart is beating faster than mine ever could. "You can't stop me."

CHAPTER THREE

    Andrew's waiting for us at the curb in front of the bakery. Soft snowflakes are dancing on the air, settling in Scott's hair, and my entire chest is struggling to fill with the childish glee I always feel on the first day of snow each winter. Only today, the glee is stuck under the heavy, immovable slab of panic and pain. And I'm not even sure all of it is my own. The shrill sound of a drill echoes from the alleyway