Devil You Know(59)

She draws in a deep, shaky breath, and fiddles with her nails. “I’m not sure.”

Her reply strips me of any self-respect I may have had left. What am I doing to her? How hard have I made it for her to feel comfortable, to feel safe, if that’s her answer?

“I don’t feel threatened any more,” she continues. “But I still feel apprehensive, if that makes sense.”

I nod. I can understand her reservations. “How do I fix it?”

“You can’t.” She sighs again, and looks to the head of the bed. “I think I need to hurry along finding my own place to live. Something small. Something I can afford on my own.”

We sit in the same room, and we breathe the same air, yet I already feel a billion miles away from her. “I respect that.” I push to stand, and turn as I make my way from the room.

“Malice,” she calls.

I stop, but don’t face her. “Yes, Jane?”

“I’m sorry this is how things have ended up. I’m still grateful for everything you did, everything you’ve done for me.”

“I’d do it all over again,” I reply.

Rocco lifts his head when I enter the hall, and I give him a weak smile. “She’s all yours buddy.” I cross the way, and close the door behind me once in my room.

I’ve ruined it all, any chance I had of keeping her.

But in all honesty, was she ever mine to begin with?





ROCCO DROPS to my feet as I stare at the closed door across the hall. I dropped the bomb far too easily, and now I’m regretting it. Why did I say I wanted out? I mean, I do, but I also want to stay.

I want him.

But is he mine to have?

How do I know that my feelings for him aren’t some strange confusion of gratitude? Maybe I’m only happy to have somebody who cares about me. It’s not that unbelievable, is it?

Rocco grumbles, and spreads out on his side. I rub my toes through his belly fur, and watch as he drifts further into sleep. The meager amount of cash I managed to hide away from Dylan should get me the down payment on a place to live, but as for the weekly rental payments? Shit, I need a job, and now. Fingers crossed those ‘interviews’ turn out.

I pull out the phone from my top drawer that Malice helped me pick out, and rotate it in my hand to look at the cover. The picture is a beautiful collage of butterflies. Blues, reds, pinks, and oranges mesh together in a burst of color. He said I should have it to remind me that everything is capable of great change. Some days I’m not so sure.

I unlock the screen, and navigate to the bookmarked page that has the listings for rentals in the area. As beautifully presented as some of these apartments are, I can’t shake the niggling feeling that they’re not for me. Something’s off. Something isn’t quite right with them.

My eyes drift to Malice’s door again, and I sigh. It shouldn’t take a rocket scientist to work it out. The thing that’s wrong with these places is that he won’t be in them. I need to move out of here, and take the bull by the horns, but I don’t want to be alone. Sure, I could get a housemate, but in reality, that’s not what I want—is it?

I want him. I always want him.

Rocco groans under my foot, and I let my gaze to fall to the lump of fur. The screen of my phone goes black, just like my resolve to go it alone. Who am I kidding? I can’t handle being on my own. Look what a mess I was that first night he went out. What do I think I’d be like if anything went wrong once I’m in my own place? Is every bump in the night going to leave me hanging from the ceiling? Would it be healthy?

Perhaps I’d end up crazier than I was to begin with. Wouldn’t that be a laugh: crazy, dog-lady Jane. I could get a plaque made up to hang at the front door—‘Chateau de Insanity’.

My thoughts drift back to Malice’s answer to Ty’s question. He’d said we were an item, that we were a couple, more-or-less. Why does it still feel so fragile then? Every time we make progress together, something like tonight crops up and pushes us apart. How long can we do this dance before the ebb and flow of our emotions gets old . . . boring. Predictable.

Maybe things with Malice are ruined, but if I want to find the silver lining in it all. At least he was there to give me the helping hand I needed. I mean, who’s to say he was ever meant to be forever? Perhaps he was always supposed to be a bridge between my past and future.

I laugh at my own optimism, and Rocco stirs at my feet. Despite the way I twist it for myself, trying to find the reasoning behind the actions, I’m not fooling anyone. My heart aches at the thought of ending things so badly with him. He doesn’t deserve me simply walking out after an argument, even if he has kept details about himself from me. At the end of the day, he’s helped me out of a pretty bad situation, and nobody said that would guarantee me a full-access pass to his background. I should be grateful for what I was given, instead of whinging about what I didn’t get.