The Captain's Dirty Little Secret

Chapter 210: Chapter 210 - No Message

Mrs. Robinson drove Roxie home shortly after six.

Jason sat in the back seat beside the cardboard city they had built from cereal boxes and tape. Two plastic dinosaurs were strapped beneath the seat belts because he insisted they needed to travel safely.

Roxie sat in the passenger seat with her phone inside her coat pocket.

Whenever headlights appeared behind them, she checked the side mirror.

None belonged to Zac’s truck.

He had said he would pick her up at six.

Roxie had told him she could find another ride. She had told him he needed space, then climbed out before he could argue.

She had expected him to ignore her.

She wanted his truck waiting outside the Robinson house when Cynthia returned. She wanted Zac standing near the curb, irritated that Roxie had tried to push him away.

She wanted him to prove she could say anything and he would still come.

At six, Mrs. Robinson arrived alone.

Zac never called.

He never sent a message asking whether Roxie had finished.

She watched every road they passed on the drive home.

Maybe he had arrived after they left.

Maybe he was heading toward the bungalow.

Maybe his father stopped him at home and Zac would show up later with another fight behind him.

Mrs. Robinson pulled over outside the bungalow.

”Thank you again,” she said. ”Jason had a great day.”

”I built everything,” Jason said from the back seat.

”You made Roxie build everything.”

”I helped.”

”You handed me tape.”

”You’re better at tape.”

Roxie opened the passenger door. ”I had fun too. Thanks for driving me, Cynthia.”

Mrs. Robinson had only recently asked Roxie to use her first name. It still felt strange.

”Anytime,” Cynthia said. ”Get some sleep tonight. You look exhausted.”

Jason lifted one of the dinosaurs.

”Next time we need a bridge.”

”A bridge that stays up?”

Jason considered it. ”Maybe.”

Roxie smiled. ”I’ll bring stronger tape.”

She closed the door and watched the car leave.

The street became quiet.

Roxie stayed beside the porch and looked toward the corner.

Zac was late.

That was all.

He could still arrive in five minutes.

She pulled out her phone.

Nothing.

Their conversation remained unchanged from that morning.

Zac: You’re calling me when you finish.

Roxie: You don’t get to avoid me all day and then decide when I need you.

She had meant it.

She had also expected him to come anyway.

Roxie entered the bungalow and locked the door.

The silence felt worse after spending the day with Jason. He had talked from the moment she arrived until Cynthia returned. He talked about dinosaurs, pancakes, blanket forts, and whether the cardboard hospital needed a jail beside it.

Now the fridge was the only thing making noise.

Roxie dropped her bag beside the couch and turned on the television. A cooking show filled the room while she removed her coat.

The marks around her wrist had turned darker near the center. Purple showed beneath the red shape left by Zac’s fingers.

She pulled her sleeve down.

Roxie changed into shorts and one of Zac’s old football shirts. His name was printed across the back. The shirt hung low enough to cover the fading marks near her hips.

The container Zac had filled that morning waited in the fridge.

Potatoes, sausage, and toast.

He had made her breakfast while refusing to sit beside her. Then he packed the leftovers and told her to eat when she came home.

Roxie heated the food and carried it to the couch.

She took several bites before placing the plate on the coffee table.

Her phone stayed beside it.

Zac would call when he noticed the time.

He might already be driving.

By seven, Roxie had stopped pretending she was watching television.

The phone lit at seven fifteen.

She grabbed it too quickly.

The notification came from Bianca’s public post.

Roxie opened the photograph.

Several people crowded around the indoor pool at Kyle’s house. Some sat beside the hot tub while others stood near a table covered with plastic cups.

Mason held a drink. Kyle stood partly hidden behind two girls.

Zac was near the center.

Roxie stared at him.

He wore swimming trunks with a towel around his neck. His hair was wet, and his face was turned toward something Mason had said.

He was smiling.

Zac was at a fucking pool party.

One girl sat on the edge of the hot tub near his leg. Another stood behind him and reached past his shoulder toward the table.

Neither girl was touching him in a way that proved anything.

The first could have been speaking to Kyle. The second could have been reaching for a cup.

Roxie enlarged the picture anyway.

The scratches she had left across Zac’s neck showed above the towel.

That morning, he had sat across from her at the tiny kitchen table. He moved away when she tried to hug him. He kissed her forehead before leaving her at the Robinsons.

Now he looked comfortable.

The girls bothered her.

His smile bothered her more.

He had looked miserable inside the bungalow. Every time Roxie moved closer, Zac watched her wrist or found something else to do with his hands.

At Kyle’s house, he looked fine.

Roxie checked when the picture had been posted.

Twenty minutes earlier.

Zac had been swimming when he was supposed to pick her up.

He had time to drink, laugh, and stand around girls.

He had no time to send one message.

Roxie locked the phone and placed it facedown.

She turned it over less than a minute later.

Nothing.

She opened Zac’s contact.

Her thumb hovered above the keyboard.

Where are you?

She refused to send it.

He had told her to call when she finished.

Roxie had told him she could find another ride.

Maybe this was her fault.

Zac could not read her mind. She had expected him to understand that she wanted him to come after telling him to stay away.

That made no sense.

She should have called him at six.

She should have told him she still wanted the ride instead of waiting outside and hoping he would appear.

Roxie looked at the picture again.

She had handled everything badly since the grill.

She hid the college papers.

She defended Ethan.

She told Zac Tennessee was his plan instead of theirs.

Then she shoved him when he tried to leave.

She kissed him because she knew he would stop walking once she touched him.

Maybe he understood exactly why she did it.

Maybe he knew she had used intimacy to keep him inside the bungalow.

Roxie pressed her lips together.

She had wanted him. That part was real.

Her body still remembered his hands holding her against the wall and the feeling of coming while he watched her.

She had wanted all of that.

She had also been terrified he would leave.

Maybe Zac felt that too.

Maybe he thought she only touched him to end the argument.

She should have apologized better about the papers. She should have told him Tennessee remained on the list. She should have stopped trying to explain Ethan and made it clear that Ethan was only a friend.

Maybe Zac needed to hear that she still chose him.

Instead, she spent breakfast complaining because he sat across the table.

She told him she liked him better when he was angry.

What was he supposed to do with that?

Roxie covered her face with one hand.

She had wanted him angry because angry Zac still touched her.

Careful Zac looked ready to leave.

Maybe he finally realized how desperate she was.

Maybe that was why he went somewhere without her.

The people at the party probably wanted nothing from him. They did not ask him about Tennessee. They did not make him feel guilty about bruises. They did not expect him to solve their whole future.

The girls around him probably said what they meant.

They probably never told him to leave while waiting for him to stay.

Roxie looked around the bungalow.

Maybe she should have been easier.

She picked up the phone again.

She could call and apologize.

She could tell Zac she handled the morning badly. She could ask him to come over and promise they would stop discussing the college papers.

Her thumb remained above his name.

What if he refused?

What if one of the girls heard her asking him to come home?

What if he sounded happier there than he ever sounded with her?

Roxie locked the screen.

She would wait.

Maybe he only needed a few hours.

He would remember his promise.

He would still choose her without Roxie having to beg.

The television continued playing while the bungalow grew darker.

Roxie went to bed with the phone beside her pillow.

Zac’s truck never stopped outside.

No footsteps crossed the porch.

The other side of the bed stayed empty.

Roxie opened their conversation near midnight.

She typed:

Did you forget me?

She stared at the words.

Then she erased them.

Roxie slept badly. Whenever she woke, she reached toward the empty side of the bed and checked her phone.

Zac never called.

Sunday morning arrived gray and cold.

Roxie stayed beneath the blanket until nearly ten with her phone against her chest.

She had spent the night thinking about everything she should have done differently.

Zac had still sent nothing.

The screen finally lit.

Her heart jumped before she saw the name.

Ethan: You working at noon?

Roxie stared at it.

Roxie: Yes.

She opened Zac’s contact again.

Nothing.

No apology.

No explanation.

No message asking whether she had arrived home safely.

Roxie’s guilt began changing.

Fine.

Maybe she should have called him at six.

Maybe she had pushed him away and expected him to know she meant the opposite.

Maybe she handled the college argument badly.

Zac still had a phone.

He knew when she finished. He knew where the Robinsons lived. He promised he would pick her up.

He could have sent one message.

Roxie opened the photographs people had posted from Kyle’s house.

Most showed the pool, drinks, and people she barely knew.

One had been uploaded late Saturday night.

Zac sat near the hot tub with Mason beside him. His hair was still wet, and he held a plastic cup near one knee.

A girl stood behind the chair.

Her body was close enough that Roxie could imagine the parts hidden outside the frame.

The picture proved nothing.

Roxie stared at it anyway.

Maybe Zac had stayed at Kyle’s all night.

Maybe he had gone home.

Maybe he left with one of the girls.

A girl who would spread her legs and let him fuck her instead of stopping before sex.

The thought made Roxie’s stomach twist.

She had wanted Zac.

She made him come. She had given him more than she had ever given anyone.

Maybe it still was not enough.

Maybe he wanted somebody who would go all the way without crying, arguing, or bringing up another college whenever he tried to plan their future.

Roxie threw the phone onto the mattress.

She had no proof that Zac touched anyone.

He had given her no reason to believe he had not.

One message would have stopped her from imagining him with every girl in those pictures.

He chose silence.

That was what pissed her off.

Roxie climbed out of bed and showered.

The marks near her hips had started fading. Her wrist remained darker.

She turned it beneath the water.

Saturday night, she had kept asking what she should have done to make Zac stay.

Sunday morning, she wanted to know what excuse he thought could fix this.

Maybe she handled the fight wrong.

That did not give Zac the right to disappear for the entire weekend.

He did not get to leave her waiting while he drank around girls and then blame everything on the ride she said she did not need.

Roxie shut off the water.

She dressed for work and covered her wrist.

Before leaving, she checked her phone again.

Nothing.

The silence no longer made her want to apologize.

It made her furious.

Roxie walked to the grill.

Cold air hurt her lungs during the first few minutes. By the time she reached the parking lot, her fingers had gone numb inside her coat pockets.

Ethan stood near the back entrance smoking.

He looked at her as she approached.

”You look terrible.”

”Good morning.”

”Did you sleep?”

”Yes.”

”Recently?”

Roxie opened the back door. ”Are you going to insult me all day?”

”I can spread them out.”

”That would be thoughtful.”

Ethan put out the cigarette and followed her inside.

The grill opened at eleven on Sundays. By noon, most of the booths near the windows were occupied.

Roxie tied on her apron and started on the dishes beside the deep sink.

She checked her phone once during her break.

Nothing.

After that, she kept it inside her apron pocket.

By three, Ethan brought another tub of plates into the dishwashing area.

”Waiting for Zac?”

”No.”

”Sure.”

”Focus on your job.”

”I brought you plates.”

”You brought me more work.”

”That is my job.”

Roxie sprayed the first plate harder than necessary.

Ethan leaned against the counter.

”I still have the college papers.”

”I know.”

”I added two schools.”

Roxie turned off the water. ”Why?”

”One has a late application deadline. The other has a possible cheer scholarship.”

”I already told you I can’t afford a university.”

”You said the nearby school might work.”

”That was before Zac dragged me out.”

Ethan’s eyes moved toward the sleeve covering her wrist.

Roxie pulled it lower.

”How bad is it?”

”It’s fine.”

”He let go eventually.”

”Stay out of it.”

Ethan watched her for a moment, then picked up the clean tub.

”Bring the papers out after closing,” Roxie said.

He looked back.

”You’re keeping them this time?”

”Yes.”

Ethan nodded and returned to the dining room.

After closing, Roxie removed her apron and joined him at the table near the service window.

The college papers were already spread across it.

Ethan had added two schools. One accepted late applications. The other offered a cheer scholarship that might cover part of the tuition.

They spent the next forty minutes crossing out anything Roxie could never afford.

One university became impossible after adding housing and food.

The nearby community college remained possible if Roxie stayed inside the bungalow and kept working.

The other school depended on a scholarship she might never receive.

Roxie kept the page anyway.

Zac had disappeared for an entire weekend after getting angry because she looked at two schools.

Fine.

He could be angry again.

Roxie gathered the papers and pushed them into her bag.

Her phone remained dark beside them.

Ethan followed her attention.

”He still hasn’t called?”

”I’m done checking.”

”You checked during cleanup.”

”I’m starting now.”

Ethan picked up his jacket.

”I’ll drive you home.”

”I can walk.”

”It’s dark.”

”I walked here.”

”It wasn’t dark then.”

Roxie looked toward the windows.

Zac would hate this.

Ethan had given her the college papers.

He sat with her after work.

Now he would drive her home.

Saturday night, Roxie would have walked through the cold to avoid making Zac angry.

Tonight, part of her wanted him to find out.

”Fine.”

Ethan reached for the lights.

Roxie checked her phone one final time.

Nothing from Saturday.

Nothing from Sunday.

Zac had spent the weekend acting like she did not exist.

He did not get to decide who drove her home.