I had managed to keep busy over the last week, filling my days with more work than anyone should ever take on and my nights with dinners with my father, movies with Kari, and epic conversations with Heather. Simon Powers had called the day before about Solomon Place and ended up asking to take me to dinner, but I had turned him down. I just wasn’t in the mood to deal with a date.
But on Wednesday, Dad was sick, Kari was working at the hospital, and Heather was at a concert with her new rocker boyfriend, Brian. With only myself to count on for a distraction, I had jumped in the pool and swam as hard and fast as possible.
Everything is so confusing!
I wanted desperately to believe what I read in Cane’s eyes. I wanted to believe that he was really doing what he thought was best for me. But I knew better. People in general, and men especially, were in it to win it. Cane was no different. Only a fool would believe that.
Tears pricked my eyes and I fought them from falling. I blinked rapidly and forced myself to get angry.
Remember—he’s ‘the coach’. He was clear that he just wanted one night. I guess getting me to admit that I wanted him was enough. At least he let me down easy.
I breathed deeply, holding on to the anger that was surging past the self-pity.
He won. I handed another asshole a victory. Accept it for what it is and get over it.
I wrapped the towel snugly around my waist and headed into the house, finally feeling like I may be able to sleep. I was physically exhausted but, more than that, I was emotionally drained.
Spotting a new bottle of wine on the countertop, I grabbed a glass out of the dishwasher.
Get a hot bath, drink a glass of wine, and I’ll be golden.
I grabbed the wine, popped the cork, and poured it into the glass, my mind drifting back to my dinner with Cane.
“Personally, I like to drink out of a real glass.”
I sat the wine down with a shaky hand.
Like a bolt of lightning, all of the emotions I had been keeping in check slammed together with the force of a train. I looked around the kitchen, desperate for something to give me a good memory to latch onto. I needed something to replace the images of Decker watching me leave the courthouse, of Cane walking out the door. But there were only things of Kari’s. Nothing of mine.
Because this isn’t my house. I don’t have a home anymore.
My lip began to quiver as my reality came crashing down on me with the weight of the world.
I’ve lost everything I had, if it was even mine to begin with. And who knows how to get to where I even want to be? Where do I want to be? I don’t even know.
I slid down the cabinets until I was sitting on the cold tile. It felt like a series of bombs were exploding inside me all at once, ripping me into little jagged pieces. Tears fell freely and hard, leaving me unable to catch my breath. It was an explosion after explosion, each memory triggering another, reminding me of what I never had and likely never would.
I had never felt so alone in my life.
If this is really living, like Max said, I’d rather mow the fucking sidewalk.
CANE
The smacking sound my ink pen made as I tapped it off of my yellow notepad was soothing in some crazy way. It was a distraction from—well, my distractions.
I sat back in my office chair, the late Thursday morning sun heating my office. I got up and twisted the blinds shut, blocking out both the heat and the light.
I wish I could block shit out of my life that fucking easy. Where would I even start? Jada? Or Powers?
Definitely Powers.
Grimacing, I headed to the mini-refrigerator across the room and grabbed a bottle of water. Max’s latest bit of information had me perplexed and a little nervous.
“My friend at the police department said that they suspect Simon of being involved with the Sinaloa Cartel; they’ve been watching him for a few months now.”
It made sense. It explained the apparent trips to the border. It explained the money and even the interest in an open office building to use as a front for his operation, if there really was one.
But would a cartel use a tool like Powers? And how would he even get involved with a Mexican cartel?
Too many questions and not enough fucking answers.
I sat back down in my chair, my mind, like a magnet, going back to Jada Stanley.
I am certi-fucking-fiable.
I hadn’t seen her since I left her sitting on her bed, her eyes begging me for something I couldn’t give her. The only thing keeping me sane was that Max saw her almost daily. And, with a few threats involved, he divulged how and what she was doing. She hadn’t really said anything about me, but she hadn’t said anything about Simon, either. So I guessed, on some level, that was good news.
I wasn’t sure why I gave a fuck. It wasn’t like it made any difference to me.