“Shut up, Ev. You aren’t taking this out on me. He needed to know someone was following him. He’s worried you’re in danger and wants to hire a security team.”
“I don’t need his hired goons following me. Why does he give a shit anyway? Did he even try to deny he was with those girls?”
“He said it isn’t what it looks like, and to please call him when you’re ready for him to explain.”
“When hell’s a glacier.” A knock at the door interrupts our conversation, and I go to file another police report.
* * **
I’ve stayed at Ian’s apartment for nearly a week. Mason called and texted a few times the first three days, then gave up. I’m not surprised. I’m sure he’s on to the next gullible woman. To top it all off, Amy left for New York last night. Anger has propelled me through my week. Anger at Mason for being a liar, anger at myself for falling for it, anger at the world for being unfair.
Ian insists I stay one more night, and I know he’s still worried over who sent the pictures. I’m sure it was just another woman who wants him, and when she sees we have no contact, she’ll leave me alone.
Alone is all I want to be right now, because as the anger fades, pain seeps in. I miss him. I feel like a psycho, arguing with myself in my head. I miss him. I hate him. He can be so sweet. He’s a lying, cheating asshole. Maybe I should let him explain. Maybe I should throw something at his junk.
I’m driving myself crazy and I need to be alone to sort through the swarm of feelings bombarding me. But arguing with Ian is like running uphill in flip flops. Uncomfortable, exhausting, and pointless. So I agree to one more night.
“Hey, Ev,” Ian greets me, dropping his briefcase on the table. “Have a good day?”
“Pretty good.” I do my best to sound upbeat. “BTC needed another volunteer to take the kids to The Children’s Museum. Then we went to the go-cart track. I totally kicked ass.” It was a fun day. I did my best not to be depressed in front of the kids, but Danny noticed my mood and asked about it. He backed off quick when I snapped at him to mind his own business. That was the last time he questioned me about “boyfriend trouble”. “How was your day?”
Ian smiles, stripping off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt cuffs. “I got this hot chick’s number at lunch.”
“Of course you did. I’ll head home tonight, and you can get laid. I’m fine, Ian.”
“I’ll call her tomorrow. Tonight we’re binge watching Supernatural on Netflix and eating our weight in tacos. So get to cooking.”
I smack him on the arm as he tries to dodge me. “Since youasked so nicely.”
“I’m always nice.”
The rattle of pots and pans echoes through the house as I hunt for a decent skillet, and Ian heads off to shower and change. He sucks down half a dozen tacos, but I only manage one. Apparently, my appetite receded along with my anger.
“Hey, turn back to the news,” I tell Ian as he channel surfs. The headline story is the capture of The Naked Bandits. Apparently, the FBI was one step ahead of them, and now they’re all under arrest. Was it less than a month ago that I stood naked in that bank, humiliated while Mason protected me from the bandits and other prying eyes? He’s become important to me so fast.
“At least no one got hurt,” Ian remarks, and I grunt noncommittally. I’m hurt.
After a few hours of watching Sam and Dean salt and burn the bones, I’m done. I’ve hardly paid them the attention they deserve anyway. When I turn to tell Ian I’m going to bed, he doesn’t give me the chance. His warm arms embrace me and to my horror, I instantly start crying.
He tightens his hold when I try to pull away. “It’s okay, pup. Okay to miss him. Okay to be upset.”
“It’s not. I’ve known him less than a month. It’s ridiculous.”
“It’s enough time to know you love someone and mourn the loss of it.”
My arms lock around his waist and I rest my head on his shoulder. “I don’t love him.”
“Okay.”
“I just want to forget him. It was a mistake. Now I can’t go back to Striking Back.”
“I talked to him today. He’s leaving town tomorrow for a few days. He won’t show up at Striking Back.”
At least I can say goodbye to everyone. I sit up and glare at Ian. “Why are you talking to him?”
“He wanted to know if you’d gotten any more threats. He’s still trying to track down who did it.” Ian’s voice softens. “He’s waiting to hear from you. For what it’s worth, he soundsmiserable.”
“It’s worth nothing. Whose side are you on?” I demand, furious he’s defending him.
