“Um, I guess that you’re a really nice guy and could be a great friend. But that you aren’t someone who is willing or able to deal with complicated things,” I answer honestly.
“Ouch. Harsh, but fair,” he says. This time he pops a chicken nugget into his mouth before asking, “What about this guy?”
My throat burns thinking of the answer, and I instinctively push my salad away from me.
“He’s shown me that he’s kind and patient, and that he would drop anything if I called and needed help. And he’s-” I clear my throat, trying to send the burn away. “He’sattentive and gentle, and he’s never made me feel bad for being sick. But he scares really easily and he runs when things get real.”
“If you want my two cents,” he offers after a few beats of consideration, “people can get over being scared.”
I move my gaze to my lap as the tears well up, stinging my irritated eyes, not wanting them to be seen and not willing to let them fall.
“I can’t tell you what to do here,” Emmett continues. “But you have my number, and my dad and his friends have connections. If you give him another chance and this dude screws you around again…I’m just saying.”
A laugh slips out of me – quiet at first, because if he only knew he was threatening his own father, with the wrath of said father, he wouldn’t be saying these kinds of things.
As the unwanted tears fall from my eyes, the laughter builds more and more until I’m cackling, clutching my stomach and hardly able to breathe. Emmett stares at me, concern etched into his face as I howl in laughter. I can’t get it to stop – the laughing or the tears, both are overflowing, feeling like they’re pulling me out to sea, far away from any remaining piece of my sanity.
“I’m fine,” I wheeze, pressing my hand to my chest, “I promise. I’m sorry.”
As the uninvited emotions come to a stop, I wipe at my eyes to try and clear away any smeared makeup and any tears still left on my face.
“I must look insane,” I comment.
“I mean, I’m not gonna start lying to you,” Emmett chuckles. He plops my bowl back onto my lap. “You should eat...and maybe think about taking a couple of days off.”
He’s right, I should. Being here isn’t good for me right now – but home isn’t much better, not that he knows that.
Dirty little secret, and all.
•
I spend the next few hours actively avoiding Colt. I don’t want to hear whatever it is that he keeps trying to say to me, and I definitely don’t want him to know that I was crying over him, though I’m sure Emmett will tell him something about his assistant having a complete breakdown in her car, with a lap full of lettuce and vinaigrette.
As the end of the day draws near, I suck in a deep breath and force myself to stand tall, chest puffed out, as I walk into Colt’s office to collect my things. He’s at his desk, engrossed in an email on his computer, with a glass of whiskey in hand.
I consider grabbing his keys and forcing him to get a ride home. I may be angry and hurt, but I still care about him and his safety. I don’t think that’s the first drink I’ve seen him with today.
“Can we talk?” He asks, peeling his eyes from the screen to look at me. “Please?”
I finally meet his gaze, letting him see whatever mess is on my face, and for a second, I think I can see his heart crack, just a little.
Good. He deserves to feel like crap.
“Don’t tell me who you are, Colt. Show me.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Colt
“Thanks,” I say as I clap Davis on the shoulder.
“Hey, good luck in there, man.”
I step out of his car and fish my keys out of my pocket. I honestly don’t know what I’m about to walk into. I have no idea if Rowan is here, if she’s in a hotel somewhere or god forbid, on the street with her sister. Maybe she’s gone on a rampage and destroyed my favorite paintings. I really fucking hope she’s here.
I’ve never been afraid to lose someone before – not like this, at least. My son is the only person I’ve ever truly feared pushing away or having taken from me. But god, if I really lose her, I don’t know what I’ll do.
The house is silent when I enter, and the lights are off, making it difficult to navigate through. I fumble for the main switch against the wall and flick on the living room overhead lights, which let me at least see where I’m going.
