Read Online Fighting Back (Mercy's Angels) by Kirsty Dallas - Free Book Online
Authors: Kirsty Dallas
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suitable conquest, sat uncomfortably in my stomach. I really shouldn’t have cared, after all it had been me who had rejected him. But I couldn’t stop the nagging feeling of self-doubt that insisted on being noticed, desired. Charlie hadn’t wanted me, and apparently not even the dregs of Claymont wanted me either. What was wrong with me? I’ve never lacked confidence, until now. Now I was second guessing myself, doubting my choices, and doubting my self-worth. I sat on the back porch, watching the stars twinkle in the clear sky. I felt like drifting up there to join them, where nothing could touch me or hurt me; where my worries would cease to exist. Being surrounded by a void of nothingness seemed so appealing right now.
“Jill, I’m sorry,” came a hushed voice from the doorway beside me. Charlie slipped out and stood on the porch with his cell phone pressed to his ear. He didn’t seem to know I was there. “Sorry, Jenny,” he seemed to wince, “I had shit to deal with Saturday and I had to bail early.” My stomach dropped. “Yeah, I had a great time, too, and I’m sorry I had to sneak out.” He was quiet for a moment. He had shit to deal with Saturday? Was I was his shit? “Look,” he scratched his head in what appeared to be aggravation, “Jenny, I did have a great time, hell, I had a fucking fantastic time, but that’s all it was, just one night of fun. I think it would be best if we just left it at that.” Another long pause and I felt ill. I wondered if I could sneak away without him noticing me. I carefully stood up. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back at the gym but I’m sure I’ll see you around.” I took a few steps towards the door, his back was to me now. I thought I had it in the bag, until I stubbed my toe on Mercy’s damn doorstop.
“Shit,” I hissed.
Charlie swung around and spotted me, the regret in his eyes tangible. I didn’t want that: his regret, his pity. I scowled at him then turned to limp back into the house, all attempts at stealth gone.
“Jenny, I have to go. I’ll see you around.” He hung up and followed me into the house. Mercy was at the shelter tonight so it was just the two of us. Dave would be home tomorrow. “Betty Boop, are you okay?” he called out from behind me. As I made a bee-line for my temporary bedroom, I remember the first time he had ever called me that, how I had swooned under the endearment that he coined just for me. When he used it a few weeks later at the Claymont Christmas tree lighting, I wanted to knock the bastard out for it. Kind of like I wanted to right now.
“Fine, I just stubbed my toe. I’m sure I’ll survive,” I grumbled.
“I wasn’t talking about your toe,” he murmured from across the room.
I pulled off the blanket that had been draped over my shoulders and threw it over the back of the sofa as I passed by.
“I have no idea what you are referring to. I’m fine,” I said through gritted teeth.
Charlie shook his head in frustration. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I stopped fleeing and turned to face him. Pissed off, tired, emotional with a dash of PMS to boot, I was not in the mood. “What for? You didn’t kick my toe.”
“Not for your damn toe, for that phone call. I didn’t realize you were out there, I didn’t really want you to hear that.”
His frank admission made my blood boil. What? Did he assume that I thought he was some sort of saint? That he didn’t hook up with every vagina in Claymont? Or perhaps he didn’t want me to hear that he referred to me as his ‘shit he had to deal with’. I clenched my fists wanting to pound them into his sheepish face.
“Who and what you do in your spare time is none of my business, Charlie. You don’t have to sneak outside to make phone calls for fear you might upset little ol’ me. I could care less.” That was a big fat lie. I cared a lot more than I was entitled to. My words seemed to piss Charlie off.
“She was just a friend,” he said,
“Jill, I’m sorry,” came a hushed voice from the doorway beside me. Charlie slipped out and stood on the porch with his cell phone pressed to his ear. He didn’t seem to know I was there. “Sorry, Jenny,” he seemed to wince, “I had shit to deal with Saturday and I had to bail early.” My stomach dropped. “Yeah, I had a great time, too, and I’m sorry I had to sneak out.” He was quiet for a moment. He had shit to deal with Saturday? Was I was his shit? “Look,” he scratched his head in what appeared to be aggravation, “Jenny, I did have a great time, hell, I had a fucking fantastic time, but that’s all it was, just one night of fun. I think it would be best if we just left it at that.” Another long pause and I felt ill. I wondered if I could sneak away without him noticing me. I carefully stood up. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back at the gym but I’m sure I’ll see you around.” I took a few steps towards the door, his back was to me now. I thought I had it in the bag, until I stubbed my toe on Mercy’s damn doorstop.
“Shit,” I hissed.
Charlie swung around and spotted me, the regret in his eyes tangible. I didn’t want that: his regret, his pity. I scowled at him then turned to limp back into the house, all attempts at stealth gone.
“Jenny, I have to go. I’ll see you around.” He hung up and followed me into the house. Mercy was at the shelter tonight so it was just the two of us. Dave would be home tomorrow. “Betty Boop, are you okay?” he called out from behind me. As I made a bee-line for my temporary bedroom, I remember the first time he had ever called me that, how I had swooned under the endearment that he coined just for me. When he used it a few weeks later at the Claymont Christmas tree lighting, I wanted to knock the bastard out for it. Kind of like I wanted to right now.
“Fine, I just stubbed my toe. I’m sure I’ll survive,” I grumbled.
“I wasn’t talking about your toe,” he murmured from across the room.
I pulled off the blanket that had been draped over my shoulders and threw it over the back of the sofa as I passed by.
“I have no idea what you are referring to. I’m fine,” I said through gritted teeth.
Charlie shook his head in frustration. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I stopped fleeing and turned to face him. Pissed off, tired, emotional with a dash of PMS to boot, I was not in the mood. “What for? You didn’t kick my toe.”
“Not for your damn toe, for that phone call. I didn’t realize you were out there, I didn’t really want you to hear that.”
His frank admission made my blood boil. What? Did he assume that I thought he was some sort of saint? That he didn’t hook up with every vagina in Claymont? Or perhaps he didn’t want me to hear that he referred to me as his ‘shit he had to deal with’. I clenched my fists wanting to pound them into his sheepish face.
“Who and what you do in your spare time is none of my business, Charlie. You don’t have to sneak outside to make phone calls for fear you might upset little ol’ me. I could care less.” That was a big fat lie. I cared a lot more than I was entitled to. My words seemed to piss Charlie off.
“She was just a friend,” he said,
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