I stood up from my desk in a rush, knocking over my chair. The few other agents in the room stared at me as I backed away from my computer.
“Mason, are you okay?” Perry asked, standing up at his desk.
“Just leave me alone,” I rasped. I covered my face with my hands and let out an agonized cry.
All the lies.
All the times I had known something was off about her.
And I hadn’t listened.
Because she was perfect.
She didn’t push to know about my job. She gave me space when I needed it. She listened to stories about my brother. She gave me comfort when I craved it. She let me meet her family.
It was all so orchestrated.
I could see that now.
210 Willow Park Lane.
I rushed into the bathroom and turned on the faucet, splashing my face with cold water. Then I retched, my stomach turning inside out.
My knees were weak; I felt like I was going to pass out. I gripped the sink, trying to stay upright.
210 Willow Park Lane.
All this time I had been hunting a ghost, having no idea that the flesh-and-blood woman I was falling for was the one keeping me in the dark.
I took deep breaths. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. I wouldn’t lose it. Not now.
Now that I had exactly what I had been searching for.
Her soft, sweet lips. The taste of her in my mouth. How safe I felt when I was with her.
I was a fucking fool.
Hannah Whelan was Freedom Overdrive.
I pulled my hand back, my fingers curling, clenching into a fist. I slammed it into the mirror above the sink with a guttural yell. I hit it again. And again. Shards of glass rained down. Blood dripped on the floor.
I was devastated.
I was grief stricken.
I was really fucking angry.
Hannah was Freedom Overdrive.
She’d made me look like an idiot.
She had taken my trust—my heart—and she had annihilated it. I hadn’t wanted to care about her. Fall for her. But I had.
Idid.
Because she was everything I wanted. Everything I needed. All rolled up in a pretty package.
Hannah was Freedom Overdrive.
