“I like the way you think.” I grab my phone, hands shaking, and pull up Elliot’s Instagram. There’s a post about some VIP event tonight at some fancy location in downtown Charlotte, and it looks like he’s tagged a bunch of people…I keep scrolling…there she is!
Annie Silver.
“Found him! I know where she’ll be. I’m going to get my girl.”
Aubrey grins. “About damn time.” I rush out, adrenaline pumping, barely remembering to thank her or even apologize for my little meltdown.
I’m in the truck, speeding back toward my cabin, already stripping off the borrowed shirt. I don’t care if I have to break down every damn door at every event center in Charlotte. I’m not letting Annie get away.
Not again. Not ever.
Chapter 9
Annie
LeavingGarrett was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do, and I knew the hurt was going to be bad…IS bad. I just didn’t think it was going to feel like this—a slow, mind-numbing torture that bypasses the heart and goes straight to the soul. There’s no mercy or any indication that you, or even life itself, will ever be good again. There will always be a missing link.
In other words, I’m fucking miserable.
Charlotte feels colder, meaner, so much emptier than I remember. There are no mountains; the fresh scent of pine is nonexistent, just the smell of exhaust fumes, the ruckus of honking horns, blaring sirens, and the constant hum of city life. I walk to work, numb, ignoring the texts from Elliot, who’s been blowing up my phone since my car arrived in Crystal Falls at five a.m. this morning. But the only things I can feel are Garrett’s hands on me, his mouth, the sound of his rough laugh, and the way he made me feel like the only woman on the planet.
Every time I close my eyes, I see him, and it hurts.
God, it hurts.
When I walked through the door of my shoebox apartment, it took everything in me to drag myself to the shower, and when I finally did, I stood there until the water ran cold, crying so hard I nearly choked.
Afterward, I laid on my bed naked and soaking wet… for I don’t know how long…staring at the ceiling, clutching a pillow, and whispering Garrett’s name to hear it out loud. I’ve never wanted anyone this bad. I’ve never felt so fucking empty.
But I did what I always do…I got up, got dressed, and kept moving.
I can feel my phone vibrating in my bag, exploding with messages, and I know who it is.
Elliot:
WHERE ARE YOU?
I swear, if you’re late…
Where are the new garment bags, PR kits, checklists?
Annie, answer me now.
God, I hate him. I hate this job. I hate that I left a man who would have burned down the world for me to fetch coffee for a middle-aged toddler in a pink suit.
As soon as I walk into the office, I’m immediately hit by a shitstorm of drama. Models screaming about juice cleanses, assistants running in circles, Elliot perched like a vulture in the center of it all…expensive shoes, too-tight pants, and that condescending tone I know too well.
He clocks me the second I walk in. “Annie! Jesus, what time do you call this? Who let you near the schedule?Do you know how embarrassing it is when the designer’s assistant is late?”
I drop my bag at my desk, not bothering to look at him. “It’s 8:01, Elliot.”
He ignores me, waving a stack of papers in my face. “VIP passes aren’t laminated. Where are the fuchsia suits? Did you confirm the vegan hors d’oeuvres with catering, or is that too much to ask?”
I grit my teeth. “I confirmed yesterday. And the passes are at the printer.”
He claps his hands, a fake smile on his face, his eyes wild. “See? You can be competent when you try.”
Before I can answer, he snaps his fingers. “Coffee. Oat milk, two pumps vanilla, extra hot. And get it right this time, Annie. If you fuck up the milk again, you’ll spend the night sorting receipts.”
