JJ
The number wasn’t saved.
That didn’t mean much anymore.
Unknown numbers called the shop regularly, and after the conversation about Millie’s art program, I had been trying to stop treating every unfamiliar number like Havoc had personally crawled through my phone.
So I answered.
“JJ speaking.”
Silence.
My hand tightened around the phone.
Then he breathed.
“Jonnie Jo.”
Everything inside me went cold.
Havoc.
For years, that voice could rearrange my entire nervous system with two words. Now, beneath the automatic rush of fear, another thought surfaced.
I needed to preserve this.
I started recording.
“Baby, please don’t hang up.”
“What do you want?”
“I just want to talk to my wife.”
“We’re getting divorced.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I know what you said.”
His breath
