“You broke more hearts than he did!”
Her jaw drops, face shattering at the accusation.
“He only fucked one person. You fucked all of us when you left.”
I can’t watch her eyes fill with water, like she’s the one who’s being wronged. I focus on the flowers blooming along the line of the forest, the ones that continue along the path leading back to the land that Amelia and Weston are in the early stages of building a home on.
“Stop,” Rory whispers.
“Because that’s whatyouwant. What about the rest of us? If I make a mistake, are you going to cut me out of your life again too?”
“Lex.” Her lower lip quivers, but I don’t want to hear it.
Spinning in the grass, I stomp my way through her yard until I make it back to the smallest car on their parking pad, my Nissan, and peel out, not sure where I’m going, I just need to get away from her.
SEVENTEEN
WILDER
Sundays aren’t the busiest day of the week but today seemed busier than usual. Between that and a little extra elbow grease after closing on a thorough breakdown and cleaning—don’t want wayward oil gelling and turning nasty on our day closed tomorrow (this place has my name on it, after all, gotta keep it sparkling)—I find myself leaving the restaurant later than usual tonight.
The summer sun is long gone at this hour, nothing but a sky full of stars and the moon dangling in the sky, blanketed in some clouds, not offering much in the way of light.
The shadows hug the brick walls of the alley where the glow of the lampposts can’t reach, and though it’s only yards to the parking lot—and hardly more than that to where I’m staying—the darkness calls to me tonight, stirring the animal beneath my skin to life, on the lookout for danger. Prepared to strike should the need arise.
The familiar prickle in my veins demands an outlet, energy coiling in my limbs in an echo of the way it did for the worst four years and seven months of my life.
Difference is that now, nothing is stopping me from expending it.
I channel what I can into cooking, pouring my passion into my dishes, and since I’ve been here, helping the back of house staff at Heights Bites hone their crafts as well.
But a physical outlet would be welcome. I’m hardly getting into scraps, or having to fight for my life these days, but I can’t say the frenetic energy I relied on for so long has gone away.
Looking down, I realize I’ve made a fist with my right hand, the wordfreeetched across my knuckles. First ink I got out of prison.
A promise to myself I’d never go back.
It’s a reminder to keep that part of myself under control.
But at least in NYC I had a way to blow off steam.
Here?
I’m a patient man, but the longer the unrest lives in my blood, the messier it’ll be when it comes out.
I blame that boss of mine. Sassing me with every breath in her lungs, determined to pretend this pull between us can be ignored.
With every heated exchange, the inevitable becomes that much closer.
But if she doesn’t give in soon…
Locking up, I’ve got the key in the door when I hear the screech of tires in the parking lot.
Instinctive reflexes tell me it’s a job, to look for the mark, and if it’s me, to be ready.
But then my settings register, this isn’t the city. I’m not on a job, and neither is anyone else here.
A familiar blue car is the culprit. One that a beautiful girl with curves for days is getting out of.
