The most recent one was from Logan. My heart lurched when I read it:
I thought about our pinky promise today. And, last night, I dreamed of her… Do you remember the promise you would always make to me when we were little? I need that promise.
I need you to keep your promise.
My promise… I used to tell him that I would come back to him, that he meant everything to me, and that he was a part of me.
And he still was, as was Chloe, but I wasn’t ready to allow them back into my life.
I was alone, and I was strong in that loneliness with my shattered soul.
I wasn’t ready to look into Chloe’s gray eyes, just like I wasn’t ready to look at Logan and think about the fact that I didn’t really have anything to do with him or with his family. William called me a cuckoo in the nest, and those words had given me invisible wounds.
“You wanna move, playboy?” Megan stood in front of me, her head cocked to one side. Her eyes searched me, trying to figure out what was wrong. Mine landed instead on her lush mouth. I hadn’t even noticed I was still standing in the open elevator while people waited to get inside.
“I can already tell I’m not going to be able to stand you today,” I grumbled irritably, tucking my iPhone back into my pocket as I pulled out my keys. I was lost in thought as we walked to the parking garage, the click-clack of Megan’s dizzying heels hammering in my head. Her walking in front of me, however, did afford me the opportunity to check out her ass, wrapped up tight in the pencil skirt she wore.
“You’re not looking at my ass back there, are you?” she said, throwing a sharp look over her shoulder. I gave her a sly smile and slapped her butt when we got to my Maserati.
She jumped slightly and scowled menacingly at me.
“Of course, I’m looking at your ass. Professional looks good on you,” I admitted easily as I opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. Megan followed suit, getting into the passenger seat and buckling her seat belt. As she did it, her skirt rode up high on her thighs, revealing a generous expanse of skin. I could see the edge of her thigh-highs, and I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling a strange heat in the bottom of my stomach.
My body’s reaction was instantly frustrating, and I turned my gaze out the windshield instead.
I couldn’t accept the fact that Head Case had any kind of power over me at all, not when my head was full of Babygirl. Selene had become my addiction, and even though I had moved on, I would always keep a part of her deep down inside me.
“That’s why I wear leather pants instead of these stupid suits because you men are all dogs.” Megan had noticed my vacant stare, and so she was chattering to help me out. She knew better than to ask questions; I hated talking about what had happened before. So, instead she would just go on about nothing to distract me from my darker thoughts.
“You look sexy in anything. I’ve always said that. And you look especially sexy in office wear. Trust me.” I didn’t look at her, concentrating on the roadinstead as I merged into Chicago traffic. It was one of the largest cities in the United States, and I’d already seen most of its famous spots with Head Case. I liked the bold architecture on display throughout the city.
“That’s not true. I’m not sexy.” Megan lit up a Chesterfield and blew smoke out the open window as she watched the buildings towering all around us. I’d never asked her why she had so little confidence herself in that way, but I’d always presumed it had something to do with Ryan. The monster probably tore her down and insulted her while he was abusing her.
My psychiatrist called themcognitive distortions,incorrect beliefs that a victim of violence carries with them into adulthood. Especially victims of the kind of thing that happened to Megan and me.
“Yes, you are,” I told her seriously, then I pulled the cigarette from her lips and brought it to mine.
“The fuck are you doing? You can’t light one of your own?” she snapped irritably. I sometimes thought that Megan was too much like me and that was why we couldn’t really get along.
“I’m busy driving. Be nice for once.” I shrugged and took a drag, tasting her lipstick mixed with the harsh bite of nicotine.
It didn’t drive me wild, but it didn’t disgust me either.
Parking beneath the huge skyscraper that housed our firm’s offices, I followed Megan up to the entrance. Automatic doors opened to welcome us into the monochrome lobby, luxurious but impersonal. Head Case immediately said hello to one of the receptionists while I ignored everyone and headed directly for my floor.
“You could stand to be a little more polite to your coworkers, you know,” Megan muttered as we stepped into the elevator going up to the twentieth floor.
I’d taken more elevators in the past six months than I had in my life up until that point.
“I do what I want with who I want,” I answered grimly before putting on my best mask for the occasion as the doors slid open on our floor. Before us stood my mentor, Daniel Moore. He was a man in his mid-fifties, confident with a calculating smile.
“Okay. See you later, then. Try not to kill anyone.” Megan bid me farewell with a cheeky smirk before walking on to the office of her mentor, a pretentious, superior woman who would have driven me up a wall.
“Neil, I’ve been waiting for you.” Moore slapped me on the back as I drew even with him in the hallway. Before I had the chance to say anything, he started telling me about a project. One of mine, actually. “Your notes on the theater revamp were nothing short of perfection. Researched down to the smallest detail. You have potential. A-plus work!” We entered his office, and he took a seat behind his desk while I remained standing, allowing my problems to fade into the background.
Work was the only thing that could really keep my mind occupied and force me to be productive.
“I’m glad you liked it. It took me three nights because I had a number of other projects to review. I was worried it wouldn’t be up to your standards,” I answered with a small half-smile. I’d gotten very good at bullshitting in Chicago. I made myself look friendly as I held Moore’s gaze. I was just an intern, but I’d already earned his respect and that of everyone else on the team. My coworkers didn’t know me. They didn’t know about my mental health problems, about my struggles to control my anger, or about my conversations with the Boy. I acted like a normal man at work. Maybe a bit prickly sometimes and taciturn, but ultimately a reasonable sort of person.
