Philips (Sequel to De Santa)

Chapter Thirty Six

Dad went to bed hours ago, but I hadn't heard a word from Trevor. I texted him multiple times but got no response. Where the fuck was he? Did he think I was mad at him for acting the way he did? I mean, I was a little, but Trevor needed to understand that I wasn't interested in anyone else, only him. Maybe it's my fault. If he knew how I felt, maybe he'd be more relaxed about me. I can see how he'd think that I wasn't sure what I wanted. All these times he's professed his love for me, but I never could give him the same. The sooner he knows, the better.

My phone began to vibrate on the nightstand, sending me into a must-answer frenzy. I didn't even look at who was on the other end, I just picked it up and answered it. "Hello?" I answered.

"Hey, Peaches," Trevor responded.

"Trevor...where are you?"

"I'm back in Sandy Shores."

"You said you'd stay the night tonight."

"I know I did, and I'm so sorry, but something came up with the lab, so I needed to take care of it."

"Can you come over now?"

"I'm afraid not, Peaches. I gotta wake up early to do some errands. I'm afraid Mikey would catch me if I tried to leave from there." I let out a quiet sigh. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay."

"You're not mad at me, are you?"

"For this? No, you can't help it."

"For earlier at the meeting?"

"To be honest...yeah, a little." Trevor didn't respond. "Trevor, you know I'm a one guy type of person. I was destroyed when Matt cheated on me, why would I put someone else through the same thing?"

"I'm sorry, Chels. I know you'd never hurt me...I've been burned in the past, so I guess I find myself a little insecure at times. I mean, you do too."

"I do?"

"Yeah. I mean, there's that call from Patricia, any time one of the Lost's old ladies talk to me—"

"I already told you that I don't know why I even lied about Patrica."

"Really, Peaches?" Trevor smirked.

"Okay, so I was protecting what was mine before it was even mine. And as for those crab-infested fuck bags The Lost call their old ladies, they were always eye-fucking you like they actually stood a chance."

"Maybe, but I don't want them, Chels, I want you." I softly smiled at the sweet longing that nestled in his tone. "I'm gonna make up for today, Chels. I mean it. What I did at the meeting and for not being there with you tonight, I'm gonna make it up to you, just you see."

"Can you promise me that you'll relax around other men?"

"I can promise that I'll try my best."

"That's all I can ask for," I smiled. "So, you were gonna talk to me about the big score?"

"Right, uh...I think that's a story best told in person."

"That's the job that put Dad into witness protection, isn't it?"

"He told you?"

"The gist of it."

"Well, let me tell you my story. See, Mikey, Brad, and a getaway driver were hitting the Union Depository, aka the big score. Everything went fine until a security guard showed up and held Mikey at gunpoint. I shot him and Mikey got a little mad but dropped it. Our getaway driver ended up getting shot and we ended up crashing our car on a farm. We had to run to the airstrip. In the process, Mikey got shot and, in his supposed-to-be-dying breaths, he told me to make a run for it. So, I did. I thought he was dead for years...until he robbed a jewelry store and said something I knew was his stupid ass catchphrase."