He patted his pocket to make sure his phone was still there. Her milliseconds of silence wore his patience thin. Now that she was in a position to do something about her situation, she was still protecting the piece of crap. If not for him, at the very least, he would have guessed that she would have folded because of what had happened to her sister. But, he’d been wrong. She had changed. The only person she cared about any longer was herself.
“They don’t,” she said, her voice smaller than the head of a pin.
Joel pulled out his phone. “Obstruction isn’t a petty crime, Ms. Donovan, and I’m not above throwing your ass in federal prison for it.”
Realistically, he knew he would never be able to go through with it, but it was hard to accept the fact that he could have ever loved, and still love, someone he thought he’d known. It was driving him crazy. How could he not know? Was this really the woman that his heart had waited for, on baited breath? Or was it that his brain had tricked his heart into waiting, thinking that she was the same universally beautiful woman she’d been before? This was the only woman, the only person in existence who could break him into pieces and put the fragments back together, blindfolded. He’d given her the power to do so, and it wasn’t something that he, or any man, usually did more than once in a lifetime.
I’ve been in kind of a writing slump. It hasn’t been writer’s block—maybe more like writer’s fatigue. I’m a bottler, and there have been some things going on in my life that I’ve been, well, bottling up. You might be this person—the one who’s always readily lending their shoulder, but when they need help, not even the Hubble telescope is powerful enough to spot someone willing to be there?
However, I’m writing again. I’ve been rereading all of you guys’ emails, tweets, and Facebook posts. Jessica has, once again, unknowingly stepped in to save me (I’ll make a whole post about this later), and I’ve got about 10K words to kick out in 20 days. So, Joel and I will see you guys… soon.