It’s ten o’clock on a Saturday night. We have long since discussed Gina Lorne. Dainy and Kylie are cooped up in the kitchen making salad and preparing drinks. Jace and Dexter are manning the grill on the outside deck, while Victoria and Natasha sit on the open deck, texting a small but noticeable portion of Liston Hills that we were having a party.
I’m upstairs in the room Dainy and I shared many nights in, staring idly at the bed. It’s the same as I remember it. An Ivory four poster king sized bed dipped in the centre of the room, the same silver sheets we last shared together, the same woolen throw folded at the foot. The room is dusty and the faint smell of hers no longer lingers in the air. Quentin, our butler was informed not to touch the room and he kept his word. While the other parts of the house had been prepared for our arrival, I wanted the room to remain untouched. I wanted the pillows and the bed that Dainy made herself to be exactly how she left it. I didn’t expect to feel this deep wrenching need to rip it off. To smash my fist in the wall, over and over again until my knuckles bled, and left its imprints on the wall. I didn’t expect to want to lose that control I had tried for so many years to keep hidden. If I did I would have insisted everything in the room be taken out.
The shower I had minutes ago was a slow but necessary agony, which I needed to cool off. I’ve never had sex with Dainy, but I explored her body on these Egyptian cotton sheets. I owned Dainy in every way it counted besides her virginity and heart. Those two she has always given to Reagan.
I’m thinking this because I got my phone in my hand and I’m contemplating whether I should be calling him and inviting him over. I’ve never invited the others over to the cabin before today, because this was Dainy’s place, I wanted her to feel comforted. To have only good memories. But now her memories of the cabin bring pain to her eyes. She thinks I don’t see it but I see all that is her, how could I not, when I am the one responsible. I’ve hurt her and looking at Reagan’s number on the screen I ask myself will I ever earn her forgiveness, will I be able to bring a smile to her full lips. I know Dainy will be mine again because there is no lengths I won’t cross to make that happen. But earning her trust, is going to be a lesson I’d have to teach her. My vixen needs to learn that I’m the only one she could trust. And with that thought in mind I dial Reagan’s number.
It goes straight to voicemail, which is odd and leaves a bad feeling in my stomach, because I’ve known Reagan since we were two and we’ve had cellphones since we were ten and Reagan has never put his phone off. I try it again and on the third try I dial Lucan. My feet carry me to the walk in closet near the floor to ceiling window and I open the door with my free hand while the other holds the ringing phone.
“I’m on my way.” He says in greeting because I called him an hour ago to get here. Part of our plan was to turn tonight into a party. We didn’t want people to get suspicious. Who knew if we were followed. My father always taught me the importance of covering your tracks. A party achieved more than that, it suggested a false perception and that was what we needed.
“Have you heard from Reagan? I tried callin’ him, his phone went straight voicemail.”
Lucan answers without thought, “Nah, man, I saw him yesterday before he went to Dainy’s, why what’s up.”
The dread I feel is more than the tinge of jealousy at hearing Reagan spent the night with Dainy.
“Nothing to worry about just yet.”
This weeks special song :- Katelyn Tarver – You don’t know