Page 93 of Toxic Wishes
“Well, it’s fine, don't worry about it.” She says, glaring at me.
“Nonsense. Let me go get them.”
“The chocolate cake was dry, but the almond was delicious.” The mom continued to talk to whoever was listening. My guess is that her dad was already tunning her out as he went into the kitchen to grab another beer. I also could take a wild guess and bet that he drinks every weekend to drown out his misery.
When my lungs take in the fresh air, I immediately feel like I can breathe better. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It didn’t take a genius to figure out they didn’t give two shits about Abigail’s well-being, and I had no idea why. I mean, it was obvious her parents were selfish and un-happily married, but why would they not care about their daughter's well-being?
I open the door to my truck, hop inside, turn it on, and wait. I locked the doors so she wouldn’t try to get the suitcase and leave. I watch the clock, and I can’t help but think of what she told me.
Wish time is 11:11, Blake and I’s birthday.
What kind of wishes did they tell each other back and forth? Did any of them ever come true before Blake died?
I see the front door open, and Abigail waves a hand to get my attention. One and a half minutes. That’s all it took for her to realize she left her suitcase in there. Or to notice I left.
Ya, she wasn’t too excited about moving back in with her parents. I wasn’t imagining her being comfortable at my apartment, working out, cooking, taking walks down by the creek in the backyard. She was comfortable there.
“Wait, I forgot my suitcase.” She shouts.
When she tries to open the door, she realizes it’s locked. She bangs on it, and a slight smirk slithers across my face. Got her
“Nope, not until you get in.”
“What?”
“I said not until you get in.”
“You are fucking crazy. Open the door, Colt.” Her voice sounded muffled through the window.
“I will once you get in.”
“So what? You’re going to steal my stuff now?” She places her hands on her hip, giving me an attitude. And it’s fucking adorable.
“Maybe. Suppose you don’t get in. I know you can’t follow me since you have no car. So, you have no choice right now.” I say through the window.
“Colt, you better open this fucking door.”
I rev up my engine. “What’s that? I can’t hear you over the noise.”
“Open the damn door! I’m not going with you.” She drops her hands from her side now:
“Wrong answer.” I start to back up a little bit.
“Colt.” She bangs on my window harder. “Stop playing around and open the damn door, this isn’t funny.”
I break out in laughter at that comment. “It kind of is, though.”
“I’m going to call the cops,” she says, pointing a finger at me. My dick gets hard at the sight of her, and fuck me sideways. No girl has ever had this effect on me or my dick. Even livid she’s absolutely stunning.
She’s Blake’s, you asshole.
I remind myself, but it doesn’t affect the situation in my pants.
“Oh ya, they’ll jump right on that. NFL player steals young girl's clothes because he has a shoe fetish.” I say as I move my hands across the dashboard to each word. “Come on, Abigail. Got to do better than that.”
I back up a few more inches on her parent's driveway.
“Would you stop!” she screams. “You’re going to cause a scene.” Her face starts to turn red. And I’m not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anger.