Page 7 of The Breakdown
She ran a comb through her damp hair, trying to clear her mind. A knock came from the bathroom door.
“You doing okay, darlin’?” It was June, checking on her.
Natalie gave herself one last look and extinguished the lights. She opened the door and emerged. June stood waiting for her with a caring smile.
“Fine, thanks,” Natalie said. June grazed her arm.
“Good, I’m glad.” She led her down the hall of the cool, cozy home and into the kitchen. Vaughn stood at the worn pale yellow counter, sipping from a mug of coffee. Though it was hot outside, the coffee smelled delicious.
Natalie climbed onto a barstool and noted that Vaughn had changed clothes as well. Now she was in a black tee with faded jeans rather than a dirty white tee and dark jeans. She seemed to look fetching regardless of what she was wearing. In a rugged cowgirl sort of way.
She slid Natalie a mug of hot coffee.
“Thank you,” Natalie said, wrapping her hands around the hot cup of joe. “You’ve both been…so kind.”
June waved her off. “Shoot, that’s nothing, sugar. We’re just being hospitable.”
Natalie sipped her coffee. It was divine. “Still, you’ve been kind. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Vaughn said, sipping from her own mug. Her cowboy hat hung by the door, and she appeared to have brushed her hair, combing it away from her face and tucking the sun-streaked brown strands behind her ears, which seemed to accent her angled jaw. But her eyes were what were the most striking. They were a light, piercing blue, and they felt as though they were pinning Natalie to her seat.
Natalie offered a self-conscious smile and broke Vaughn’s gaze by staring into her steaming coffee.
“Oh,” Vaughn said, reaching across the counter for the cordless phone. “I suppose you need to use this.” She slid the phone to her, much like she’d done the mug of coffee.
Natalie stared at the phone, unsure as to what to do. She didn’t exactly have family she could call. And close friends? Well, she’d lost those when she’d married Allen. He’d been sure to run them off and she’d yet to reconnect, trying hard instead to rebuild her financial security. So, who was she going to call? An Uber? Sure, she could. But she’d just end up back at home, where she was sure the man would be waiting in his truck, starting the whole cycle over again. Only now, she had no vehicle, no way to escape, even if she wanted to try.
Fuck.
She lifted the phone and dialed the only person she knew who would halfway give a shit. Gayle, her roommate of less than a year, answered on the third ring.
“I told you, I don’t like dick pics,” she said by way of greeting.
Natalie stammered, confused. “Uh, what?”
“Who is this?”
“Gayle, it’s Nat.”
“Nat?”
“Natalie. Your roommate.”
“Oh, right. Thought you were someone else.”
Apparently.
Gayle bit into something that sounded crunchy and chewed in Natalie’s ear.
“Listen, Gayle, I’ve had a bit of a mishap with my car. I’m okay, but I’m—”
“Mishap? What, did it blow up or something?” More crunching. Natalie winced and realized that calling her was probably a mistake. Gayle didn’t pay much mind to her or take things seriously on a good day, so what made her think she would now?
“Yes, actually, it did.”
“What? No way!” She laughed. “Jesus, Nat.”
“It’s really not funny.” This was a mistake. The last thing she needed was to be laughed at for her misfortune. Fucking Gayle. She could almost picture her, sitting on the couch, munching on a bag of chips after having smoked a fat joint, binge-watching some reality show with the volume up incredibly loud, doing her best to ignore the rest of the planet.