I Told You, You're Mine

By: Heather C. Adams

I hate wasting my day.

My head bangs again from the movement.

What the fuck happened last night?

I try to remember. Bits of memory try to seep in, but my brain feels like a jumbled mess and keeps going black.

“Here, take these,” a voice I know comes from behind me.

I turn around and see the last person I want to…Liza.

“What are you doing here,” I wince at the pain from moving my head too fast.

“Why Blade, dear, I got you home last night,” she smiles like a snake, “don’t you remember?”

“What? Why you?” I stand up and take the fresh glass of water and pills from her hand.

“Well, that’s no way to thank me,” she frowns. “I took good care of you last night,” she smirks devilishly.

Holy shit what happened last night? Wait, she’s dressed. It’s got to be nothing.

“Thank you,” I growl, “I guess.”

I pause for a moment trying to piece the information together as she moves back to the far side of the bed gathering her purse and earrings.

“Where did you sleep last night?” I squint.

Please say the couch!

She puts her earrings in her purse and throws the strap over her shoulder, “on the bed right here silly,” she pats the bed.

“Well I must be going, daddy wants to meet with me this morning,” she heads out the door hastily. “Tootles,” she throws her hand up wiggling her fingers and I want to chase after her to make sure nothing else happened, but I can’t. My body hurts. It feels like a log. It’s not cooperating this morning. I need a shower and my hangover vitamins.

I strip as I make my way to the shower and flip on the warm water, stepping in at the first sign of steam.

I don’t remember calling Avery last night. I don’t remember getting home last night. I don’t remember getting in bed last night. I don’t remember Liza last night.

Fuck please God don’t let me have done anything wrong.

No…there’s no way I would have. Even drunk as hell, I love that woman with my whole heart. There’s no way I’d do anything to hurt her. I lean my hands on the wall, letting the water run down my face, and contemplate the thoughts over and over, back and forth, the duration of the shower. By the time I finish, I’m convinced there’s no way I did anything. Liza’s got to be messing with me. She would have gladly shared all the disgusting details. No…I’m good. We’re good.


I need to call her. I bet she’s called me over and over by now. I grab my phone off the nightstand but don’t see any missed calls and frown. I open my text to shoot her a quick one that I’d call soon and I see that I text her last night:


I don’t remember texting her that. Fuck, I was drunk. I wonder if she called when I was in the middle of talking to someone.

I press her name, dialing her phone but it rings over and over and goes to voicemail.

Panic stings my core for a moment, but I take a deep breath and calm myself. I’m sure she’s just busy at work, or working out…or…something.

I’ll give it a bit and call again.


It’s been two days and I still haven’t heard a peep from Avery. My grip on the steering wheel tightens as the void pinches me again.

What in the hell is the deal?

I pull in the parking lot to the gym I’m meeting Archer at and put the car in park. I dial Avery again and get no answer…again.

“Goddammit!” I curse and slam my car door shut. Just when I’m about to pull the building door open, my phone sounds, and I pull it back out of my pocket. I stop and stare.

It’s a text from Avery:


“What?” I mumble to myself and then I remember the text that was sent to her the other night. Okay…I get it now. A smile loosens on my lips and I chuckle just a little relieved to have figured it out. Okay, okay…girl stuff.

But damn…it took two days to get a text like this?

She’s pissed I didn’t call, that much is clear. She’s pissed I wrote her that shitty one word text, that I don’t even remember sending. Point taken. But If she would have answered any of the times I called, I would have gladly explained to her, but she didn’t and she won’t. I guess she needs time to be mad.

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