Read Online Find Me in Manhattan (Finding #3) by Shealy James - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Shealy James
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snapped me out of my moment of weakness.
She looked at me suspiciously for a moment. “You sure? I can give you a hundred reasons to never see the man again, but I can’t think of a single one to make you go back to him.”
I showed her the gun and my phone. She knew I had them, but I kept one locked in a safe in my bedroom and a backup in a safe on the top shelf of my closet. This was the first time she had seen it out and loaded. “I have this, and I was giving him sixty more seconds before I called the cops. I certainly wasn’t thinking of letting him in.” So, it was a small lie, but from that point on, it would have to be the truth. I would not let him in.
She remained suspicious a moment longer before she seemed to take my word for it. “Good. You know as well as I do that he’ll do it again. Maybe you should file that police report, after all. And for fuck’s sake, put the gun away.” True to form, Lana was unfazed by the drama. I loved that about her, envied her really.
I was done talking about it. Suddenly, I felt more exhausted than I had ever felt on the farm. “I just want to go back to sleep. Today has been beyond stressful, and I don’t want to think about anything but my pillow.”
“All right. Well, I’m here if you need anything. ‘Night, Sarah.”
“’Night, Lana. Thanks for your help tonight.”
I climbed back in my bed and thought about how lonely I felt. In a week, I went from having a sweet, attentive boyfriend to having bruises from said boyfriend hitting me. Why couldn’t I find a decent man? What was it about me that caused losers, cheaters, and assholes to flock to me? I felt the familiar pings of jealousy stab my gut. My best friend, Maggie, had never had a boyfriend before Parker. Her first real boyfriend happened to be the guy who she married. And here I was kissing toads. While I couldn’t be happier for her, I wondered for the millionth time what was wrong with me. More questions that I couldn’t answer flooded my brain. Why would a guy cheat on me? Why would a guy expect me to give up everything for him? Why would a guy hit me? Why couldn’t I find what my parents have?
The next morning arrived too quickly. I was exhausted, but I had to be at the VA for an interview, and then I had two more phone interviews. The week was thankfully a busy one for me. While I had to wear a hideous amount of concealer and foundation for interviews, Lana encouraged me go to the police and Dr. Wright with nothing covering the bruising around my eye and on my cheek. She also took pictures of everything just in case I backed out.
I didn’t. I marched my angry tail right up to the police station and filed a police report. Of course, the entire experience was anti-climactic. I wrote a detailed account of the first incident, the alley action, and the late night trespassing. The officer took the paperwork and asked me a million questions that made it sound like he thought I was to blame or making everything up. Then he said, “We’ll look into it,” and dismissed me without a second glance. I thought if I filed a police report then he would be arrested, but the officer made it sound like I was the one who needed a lawyer.
Disappointed by the turn of events and feeling a little foolish for thinking this would all be simple, I took a taxi straight to Dr. Wright’s office where I was forced to show him exactly what Jameson did to me when I told him that I couldn’t work with the lunatic anymore. Dr. Wright helped me file a report with the university, and within a few hours, Jameson had been called into the dean’s office with the news that he’d been suspended pending an investigation. When Dr. Wright called to tell me the news, I felt like he was about to say something more, but he rushed off the phone instead. It left me feeling uneasy, to say the least. It seemed a little like no one who held any power actually believed me.
I had a hard time keeping my emotions in check all week
She looked at me suspiciously for a moment. “You sure? I can give you a hundred reasons to never see the man again, but I can’t think of a single one to make you go back to him.”
I showed her the gun and my phone. She knew I had them, but I kept one locked in a safe in my bedroom and a backup in a safe on the top shelf of my closet. This was the first time she had seen it out and loaded. “I have this, and I was giving him sixty more seconds before I called the cops. I certainly wasn’t thinking of letting him in.” So, it was a small lie, but from that point on, it would have to be the truth. I would not let him in.
She remained suspicious a moment longer before she seemed to take my word for it. “Good. You know as well as I do that he’ll do it again. Maybe you should file that police report, after all. And for fuck’s sake, put the gun away.” True to form, Lana was unfazed by the drama. I loved that about her, envied her really.
I was done talking about it. Suddenly, I felt more exhausted than I had ever felt on the farm. “I just want to go back to sleep. Today has been beyond stressful, and I don’t want to think about anything but my pillow.”
“All right. Well, I’m here if you need anything. ‘Night, Sarah.”
“’Night, Lana. Thanks for your help tonight.”
I climbed back in my bed and thought about how lonely I felt. In a week, I went from having a sweet, attentive boyfriend to having bruises from said boyfriend hitting me. Why couldn’t I find a decent man? What was it about me that caused losers, cheaters, and assholes to flock to me? I felt the familiar pings of jealousy stab my gut. My best friend, Maggie, had never had a boyfriend before Parker. Her first real boyfriend happened to be the guy who she married. And here I was kissing toads. While I couldn’t be happier for her, I wondered for the millionth time what was wrong with me. More questions that I couldn’t answer flooded my brain. Why would a guy cheat on me? Why would a guy expect me to give up everything for him? Why would a guy hit me? Why couldn’t I find what my parents have?
The next morning arrived too quickly. I was exhausted, but I had to be at the VA for an interview, and then I had two more phone interviews. The week was thankfully a busy one for me. While I had to wear a hideous amount of concealer and foundation for interviews, Lana encouraged me go to the police and Dr. Wright with nothing covering the bruising around my eye and on my cheek. She also took pictures of everything just in case I backed out.
I didn’t. I marched my angry tail right up to the police station and filed a police report. Of course, the entire experience was anti-climactic. I wrote a detailed account of the first incident, the alley action, and the late night trespassing. The officer took the paperwork and asked me a million questions that made it sound like he thought I was to blame or making everything up. Then he said, “We’ll look into it,” and dismissed me without a second glance. I thought if I filed a police report then he would be arrested, but the officer made it sound like I was the one who needed a lawyer.
Disappointed by the turn of events and feeling a little foolish for thinking this would all be simple, I took a taxi straight to Dr. Wright’s office where I was forced to show him exactly what Jameson did to me when I told him that I couldn’t work with the lunatic anymore. Dr. Wright helped me file a report with the university, and within a few hours, Jameson had been called into the dean’s office with the news that he’d been suspended pending an investigation. When Dr. Wright called to tell me the news, I felt like he was about to say something more, but he rushed off the phone instead. It left me feeling uneasy, to say the least. It seemed a little like no one who held any power actually believed me.
I had a hard time keeping my emotions in check all week
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