I’m not.
I know that.
“I see that I’m going to have to have a talk with certain people about the security of this place.” It would be more effective if I didn’t have to purposely blur my vision because my eyes betray me as badly as the rest of my body. I dress decently to come here. Black button-up and black jeans. Thank god I’m not wearing slacks. If I popped a semi in front of Fawnie’s mother, there’s somewhere around a ninety-nine point eight six seven percent chance that I’d die. “I see you brought reinforcements for a full scale ambush.”
It’s so easy to look for and find the bad in everything. If the first doesn’t fail, you’re left pleasantly surprised instead of hurting and aching because you never learned to defend yourself against it.
I can’t find the bad when I give up on crossing my eyes and search Fawnie’s face.
She’s lined her eyes and has lovely little wingtips that make her already thick lashes look even fuller. The soft brown eyeshadow sets off the blue of her irises. Her sensual lips are coated in pink gloss, which normally turns me off, but on her just tempts my cock to give me a proper death by mortification. Her off the shoulder black shirt and her tight red plaid pants are paired with military style black ankle boots. Distressed to hell like they’re eighty years old. They probably came that way.
I quickly flick my eyes to Fawnie’s mother’s face. It would help if I could remember her first name, but my brain is half scrambled.
I need to get into my office so I can adjust myself in private before this becomes an issue.
“We’ll go,” Fawnie promises. “I know what I said and I’m not trying to break it.”
“You did say that you wouldn’t camp out at my house. This isn’t my house.”
She rolls her eyes, but a playful, surprised smile tugs at the corners of her lips. She expected to be met with a blast of icy, scathing rage. Honestly, I expected to be able to dole one out.
“This is my mom,” Fawnie says. Her eyes flick to my mouth before they quickly sweep back up. Her makeup is flawless. It hides her blush well, but I can tell she’s nervous by the way she slips her hand into her mom’s.
“I know.”
“She wanted to thank you in person for what you did.”
My guts twist into a nasty cramp. I have to fall back on what I know, or what else is there? “Alright, fine, if you must. Let’s have it.” I give them the sweeping hand motions and everything before I sarcastically take the words right out of Fawnie’s mother’s mouth. “Thank you for saving my daughter’s life, I’m more appreciative than you could ever know. What you did means everything to us. You’re welcome. It was my pleasure. I’d do it a thousand times over if I had to. Alright, is that it? Great. Goodnight.”
I brush past them to my office, my face burning with shame, that bruise hammering like I just stomped on myself while I was prone on the floor. I take my keys out of my pocket and search through them to find the right one. I feel like an asshole for being rude to her mom, but I just want to get away.
Fuck’s sake.
What we need on these doors is a keypad. It’s harder to find the right goddamn key when all I can see in my mind is the disappointment in Fawnie’s eyes. Not that it was there. I’m making it up, but how else is she supposed to feel when I’m acting like a cunt?
“I’ve been down that narrative. I spent years trying to make it work. It only causes pain.”
Amanda.
The name comes to me, and finally, so does the annoyance I’ve been trying hard to cultivate and wrap myself up in. I know all about this woman. Maybe not, but I do know enough. I know that she hurt a good man by being incredibly stupid. That’s enough for me.
I turn to her and practically feel the icy blast that flows down the hallway between us. “What narrative would that be?”
“The one where you shut down on the inside but give the illusion of still functioning. The one where you don’t let anyone get close. The one where you’re alone, even when you’re surrounded by people and by all appearances, are doing as well as anyone could expect.”
“Don’t mistake your story for mine,” I snap. I don’t have to put anything on now. The good old regular rage and bitterness are flowing hot and steady. “You might have shut a good man out, but you somehow got your shit together enough to raise a good daughter. She might be annoying as hell, but she means well, I’ll give her that.”
Fuck. Why did I say that?And why are my eyes now sliding to Fawnie as if she’s a magnet that I can’t avoid? Her beautiful, piercing blue eyes that are full of pain and sorrow. Iquickly go back to her mom. I need to steady myself and stop letting that bruised softness become my worst enemy. “If there’s one thing I hate more than one person telling me how my life is supposed to be or what I’m supposed to be feeling, thinking they know me because I somehow fit the mold of a few cliches, it’stwo.”
Well, Operation ‘Be A Total Dickhead’ seems to be a roaring success.
I hear Fawnie’s quick inhale and warn myself not to look at her again if I don’t want to break. I finally find the right key, jam it into the lock, and shove the door open.
“I knew you’d be pissed off and see this as us disrespecting you again,” Fawnie says from behind me. She tries to force her voice to be strong, but it wavers and cracks.
That bruise in my chest turns into a full on bleed.
“Mom wanted to thank you, and we both wanted to give you this.”
