He points to the dummy. “Jamison helps me work out my emotions.” He cracks his neck.
Whack.
Whack.
Whack.
Whack.
Jamison wobbles.
I’m walking on dangerous territory here, but I have to know. “Emotions related to the confrontation you had with Chett at the gala? Or…” I bite the inside of my lip.
His eyes darken from ocean-blue to a stormy, dark-blue. “From the moment the security guards escorted Chett out of the building, he was no longer my problem. I don’t care enough about the brat to let him upset me.”
I flinch at his words.
He’s beating up on poor Jamison because of me?
He approaches.
For a long beat, he stares down at me.
I cross my arms over my chest and give myself a hug.
Here goes nothing.
I inhale in a deep breath, expecting the inevitable coercive military level interrogation.
Kaz lets out along sigh.
Time to face the music.
“Listen, Harley, you’re a grown woman, so I can’t arm wrestle you into divulging why last night’s phone call seemed like someone yanked the rug from under your feet.” His nostrils flare. “But, since you’re now my roommate, if there are any threats against you, I need to know.”
I want to tell him the truth, lay my burdens at his feet, but the fear of him slapping a guilty by association label on my forehead has me clamping up.
“There aren’t any threats. The person who called is someone who wanted to catch up.” I shrug. “That’s it.” I pray he can’t see through my bullshit.
His eyes narrow. “So, nothing that person said to you triggered last night’s nightmare?”
Everything that person said contributed to the nightmare.“No.”
He studies me for a long beat.
His phone on the console chimes.
Saved by the bell.
He goes over and picks it up.
“It’s a text from Erik.” His eyes lock onto mine. “Apparently, we’ve made the front page of several celebrity gossip and entertainment sites.”
Thank you, Erik, for giving me a way out.
“I’m on it.” I race to my room, retrieve my phone, and rush back to Kaz’s gym.
“It’s best if you read the headlines,” he says.
