I climbed into my car and started driving.
I drove for just over two hours, all the way back to Thurston University.
Suddenly, my problems seemed incredibly insignificant. So I didn’t like sitting through class? Big deal. So I was afraid of upsetting my brothers by changing my plans? Boo-fucking-hoo.
I really was a fucking child, wasn’t I? Because Flynn Donovan hadkilledsomeone. And my engineering degree—or lack thereof—didn’t mean shit.
Not when the world no longer made sense.
Everything was upside down and backwards. I couldn’t process it. My heart wanted to scream that it was a lie, and yet Flynn’s bleak honesty gave me no room for denial.
The man I wanted—the man I thought I could love—was a murderer. No amount of schooling could ever prepare me for that.
CHAPTER 12
Flynn
“Are you listening to me?”
I blinked into awareness as my parole officer stared me down. Shit, my mind had drifted off again.
I just kept hearing my front door close as Bailey walked out of my life. Because he had, hadn’t he? No. He hadn’t walked; I’d pushed him.
Telling someone you’re a murderer would do that.
“Sorry.” I rubbed at my gritty eyes. “Didn’t sleep great.”
In fact, I’d lain awake for hours, replaying my last words with Bailey. Memorizing his small, hurt voice as he begged me to tell him it wasn’t true. As he tried in vain to see the man he thought he knew.
But he didn’t know me. Not really. Didn’t know what I was capable of. And that’s why I couldn’t be with him.
His brothers, my job, those had been convenient excuses to not get involved with him. The real truth was simpler. I didn’t deserve happiness. Not after what I did.
Especially not with someone as amazing as Bailey.
“You look like shit,” Winslow said, ever the tactful friend when you needed one. He chewed the end of a pen cap as he assessed my shitty appearance. The cap was already a mangled mess. If he kept on, it’d disintegrate under his sheer force of will. But that was Winslow. My size was intimidating, but his energy was far more powerful.
“Are you on something?” he asked suddenly, eyes sharp.
“No.”
“Your eyes are red-rimmed. You’re not focused. Your head is a mess.”
“I took a piss test when I came in,” I said.
“Which is why I really hope you’re clean, Flynn. In my line of work, I have to send a lot of guys back to prison.”
“I know.”
Winslow kept talking. That man loved the sound of his own voice. But I couldn’t hold on to the words, not when they were so meaningless after Bailey walked out.
He’d left when I told him the truth. I knew he would, so why did it hurt so much to know that I’d run him off? He’d never look at me the same, and that was a good thing, even if it ripped me to shreds.
No more temptation. No more daydreaming about a man and a life I couldn’t have.
“Flynn!”
I jumped, refocusing on Winslow. “Sorry! I’m not on drugs, I swear. I’ve got a lot on my mind, is all. I’m distracted.”
