Maybe Killian Quinn was worthbreaking a few of my own rules.
Chapter Twenty-One
…Sofor all these reasons, you need to stay away from me. I’m serious, Derrek. Iwill get a restraining order if I have to.
-Vera.
I read it over three more timesbefore I hit send. I had tried to muster up the courage to call him severaltimes over the last couple days, but I’d never been able to push the button. Ihad all these things to say to him, to yell at him. I wanted to eviscerate himwith words and scar him with truth. For more than a year, I’d been mentallypreparing the speech I’d give should I ever see him face-to-face again. Andthen when he’d inevitably shown up, I froze, paralyzed by fear and habit.
I had hoped disemboweling him overthe phone would be easier. I’d sharpened my claws and practiced phrases like,“You made me fear, truly fear for the first time in my life. You were supposedto be the place I felt the safest, but you were my nightmare instead.” In theend, it was all for nothing. I couldn’t do it. Killian suggested I text himinstead.
It had taken me another two days towork up the courage just to do that.
Since I didn’t want him to have mynumber, I used Vann’s phone. I hoped Derrek wouldn’t go after Vann like hewould me. But I knew Vann wouldn’t put up with any kind of harassment.
I couldn’t say the same thing aboutme. We’d already established that I was a doormat.
Setting the phone down on thecounter between us, I stared at it like it was alive and dangerous, like anysecond it would sprout arms with talon-tipped fingers and lunge for me.
“Did he reply?” Vann asked from hisstool by the order window.
I shook my head. “Not yet.”
“Maybe he won’t,” Vann suggested.“Maybe he finally clued in that you don’t want anything to do with him.”
“Maybe,” I agreed. “But not likely.”
“Why didn’t you tell me when it washappening? I would have moved your ass home the second you called.”
My stomach turned with familiarregret. I’d opened up to Vann earlier when I filled him in on Derrek’s surprisevisit Saturday night. Vann had been as mad as I’d expected. He tried toconvince me that he understood my silence. But I knew he didn’t. He didn’tunderstand why I’d never told anybody. And he didn’t understand why I’d stayedwith Derrek for as long as I did.
That made two of us.
He turned his face back to thewindow, stewing with useless fury and frustration. There wasn’t anything hecould do now, and that drove him crazy.
The weather had cooled significantlytonight, threatening a storm with heavy clouds blotting out the starry sky andthe smell of rain perfuming the air. An occasional rumble of thunder and flashof lightning punctuated the building anticipation of a summer storm.
The promise of rain had emptied theplaza, making it a slow night even for a Thursday. I should have sent Vann hometwo hours ago, but I was too afraid to be alone again.
I couldn’t help scanning the plazaevery time I turned around. I half-expected Derrek to show up again now that heknew where to find me. I had big doubts that a stern text message would beenough to keep him away. He wasn’t easily dissuaded.
“How was your date the other night?”I asked Vann, attempting to change the subject.
He shrugged, not changing his facialexpression. “I don’t think I’ll see her again.”
“Did she call you on your bullshit?”
Looking down at his crossed ankles,he suppressed a smile. “You might have been right about nice girls.” At my hugegrin, he amended, “Not in the traditional sense of being right. That’s not whatI meant. I just mean, maybe you were on to something.”
I cupped my ear. “What’s that? Whatdid you say? Did you want to tell me how I’m right all the time? Andemotionally intuitive? And awesome?”
He laughed at my theatrics. “Yeah,sure. You’re all those things. And yet you have terrible taste in men. What’sthat about?”
I let out a heavy sigh and checkedmy phone for the umpteenth time tonight. Speaking of men… Killian hadn’t textedall day. After enjoying a non-stop texting conversation since Sunday, I hadn’theard from him at all today. He’d been radio-silent, and rationally I knew hewas probably busy working. But irrationally, I compared today with the previousfew days and how he’d found time to text me then but not now.
I’d only analyzed what I could havesaid to piss him off two hundred times today, but I’d concluded that it wasn’tme. He’d stopped by the truck yesterday afternoon, like he did every time Iworked, and walked me to my car. There had even been some fantastic kissesagainst the driver’s side door and a promise for a date just as soon as wecould figure out our dumb work schedules.
Then this morning? Nothing.
