Trying Not To Love You

Trying Not To Love You (17)

**Sorry if I have some of the facts wrong about jail and how long you are in there and stuff. **

                My eyes nearly bulged out of their head and my breath caught in my throat. I couldn't form any words to speak since I was in initial shock right now. My hand flew to my throat and I rubbed it thoroughly, trying to make it speak.

                I had so many questions for him. When did he get out of juvenile? That's the one that stood out. I'm sure it had to be pretty recent for me to be hearing it just now. Why was he still treating me like I was his? I'm sure as hell that I wasn't, judging by the fight we got into a while ago about how we would raise Quinn. But I guess we took an unexpected turn when he got in trouble for damaging property. Again. Did I mention he was also drunk off of a couple of beers?

                “Ah, so I see you're rendered speechless now, babe. Just in case you aren't, why don't you take a seat and I'll answer all of your questions?” I did as I was told, settling myself onto the nearest couch. “Are you seated?” I nodded, but soon remembered that he couldn't tell from the other side of the line. “Hello?”

                “Yeah, I am.” I snapped at him, falling back onto the comfortable pillows.

                “Good.” he chuckled. I could imagine the smirk that tugged the corner of his lips on the other end of the line. “Now you're probably wondering when I got out of jail, right? Well, juvenile since I was seventeen when I was sent there.”

                “You think I don't know that? I've been there before, you idiot.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. This man was really frustrating me. “Anyways, when were you finally free from the hell hole?”

                “Two days ago. I'm hurt that you don't know that, honey.”

                My eyebrows furrowed. “If you got out two days ago, then why didn't you just call me then?”

                “I know you're yearning for my love right now, Avery,” I rolled my eyes at his obnoxious assumption. “but I had some things to do before I could call you.”

                “Oh, so you had something really important to do that you had to wait two days before you could call me?” I asked, shaking my head at him. “Well thank you very much because it's two days more that I don't have to put up with your shit, you douche bag.”

                “I thought we were over with the name calling, baby? At least mine are pet names and are actually kind.”

                “Just shut up.” I seethed, gripping my cell phone tightly. By the time this conversation was over, I would probably need a new phone.

                “So where's my baby girl?” Eric suddenly asked.

                I sighed. How was I going to put this gently? “She's not here right now.”

                “What do you mean? Is she sleeping?”

                “No... she got adopted.”

                For a moment, the other end of the line was silent. I could only hear Eric's heavy, long breathing. He was beyond pissed.

                “What?”

                “I said that”—I muffled my voice into the phone—”Quinn got adopted.”