When I'm Gone(51)

I laughed. Loudly.

Jimmy sat back and smirked. He was pleased with himself.

The sound of my phone ringing had him standing up and saluting me. “That’s your piece of hot Texas ass now. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

I glanced down at the phone, expecting to see cowboy boots, but it was an unknown caller. I didn’t let Jimmy know.

“’Bye, Jimmy. And thanks,” I called out.

He blew me a kiss and closed the door behind him.

I waited a moment until he was away from the door before answering.

“Hello.”

“You think you have him, but you don’t. He was fucking me before you, and he’ll be fucking me after you.”

I held the phone in my hand long after the woman had ended the call.

An hour later, Mase called to tell me he was home safe but he was exhausted. He’d call me tomorrow.

The next morning, I refused to think about the strange phone call. It could have been a wrong number. She never said Mase’s name. I shoved it aside and finally called Blaire Finlay to set up a meeting with her for the next week about cleaning her house. Then I went to the store and paid my bills for the week.

I came back to the apartment and cleaned it from top to bottom. By the time I had to meet with Dr. Munroe, I was better. I had gotten myself together, and I knew that when I called Mase that night, all would be well.

I was just missing him.

That was all this was.

Mase

I undressed and lay back on the bed while listening to Reese read me her newest book. She seemed off tonight or nervous. I wasn’t sure which. I had to help her several times. Once she reached the end of chapter two, I was going to let her stop. This book was more difficult, and she seemed tired.

“Do you want me to keep going?” she asked.

“That’s good. You’re doing so much better, baby. I’m so proud of you.” And I was. She was reading on a fourth-grade level already. Dr. Munroe said it was because she had tried hard to learn in school, and she had learned. She just hadn’t been shown how to deal with her disability. Now that she was working with it, she was picking up quickly and utilizing things she’d already been taught.

“My writing isn’t the best, but I wrote a letter today. It wasn’t a real one. I was supposed to write a fake one to someone thanking them for a gift. I only messed up two words. Dr. Munroe was pleased.” The pride in her voice made my chest tighten. I loved knowing that she was proud of her accomplishments. She should be.

“I’m waiting for you to write me a letter,” I told her. I could keep it tucked in my pocket all day and pull it out when I needed my Reese fix.

She laughed softly. “Not ready for that yet. Let me get better at it. I don’t want Dr. Munroe correcting a letter I wrote to you. So it will have to come to you unedited.”

Nothing she gave me could be less than perfect. Because it would be her. What she wrote. If she mixed up every letter and every word, then that was the way they were fucking meant to be. Because she would have written them for me.

“Don’t care how many mistakes are in it, Reese. It would be from you. That’s all that matters,” I told her.

She made a soft little sigh. “You say the sweetest things.”

I could say even sweeter things if she’d let me. I was tempted to try. Swear to God, I could still smell her on my hand. I’d put those fingers up to my nose and inhaled all damn day.

“What are you wearing, Reese?” I asked.

“Your T-shirt, just like I’m supposed to,” she replied. I could hear the amusement in her voice.

“Go lie down on your bed for me.” I was testing her. I’d stop if she balked even once.

“OK,” she breathed. “I’m on my bed.”