Chapter 5

As I reached for the phone, Ian pulled me back. He mumbled, "It's just a spam call. Ignore it. Let's go again."

The phone kept buzzing for about ten minutes before Ian finally stopped. He picked it up, his patience wearing thin. When he saw the caller ID, his eyes darkened.

I did not need to guess who it was. Ian had not planned on answering it, but some twisted idea struck him, and he did it anyway.

Without a word, he answered and handed it to me. Through the receiver came the loud music.

"Olivia, Tim's wasted. Can you come get him?"

It was the same old story—Timothy getting drunk and having someone call me to pick him up. I would drag myself out of bed in the middle of the night and drive for hours, only to find him perfectly fine and talking with others.

Then, he would turn to me with those puppy-dog eyes and say he just missed me too much. After a while, I realized this was just one of his sick games, which was no different. I did not have the energy for it; I was too