The Fixed Trilogy(Fixed on You, Found in You, Forever With You)(185)

He reached for me again, but I sidestepped him, putting my hands out in front of me as a barrier. “Don’t even come near me. You try to solve all our problems with sex, and this time is not going to be one of them.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “I do not try to solve our problems with sex. I simply recognize that when we’re fighting, the physical connection puts us back in tune with each other.”

“You mean it makes me easier to manage.” He opened his mouth—to protest, most likely—but I spoke on before he could say anything. “I can’t deal with this right now. I have to go.”

I nabbed my bag off the sofa and headed to the main door. He tried to catch me as I walked past him, but I slipped from his grasp.

He didn’t try again. “Alayna, do not leave things like this.”

“Right now the last thing I want to hear is you telling me what to do.”

“Alayna, please—” The ache, the pleading in his voice—it wrecked me.

But I needed time.

I paused, my hand on the doorknob, not looking at him. If I looked at him, I was afraid I’d fall into his arms. I needed to be in a place where I could think clearly. And his arms was not that place. “I’ll be at the penthouse later. That’s all I can give you. Right now, I need some space.”

The ball in his throat was so tight, I heard him swallow. “Fair enough.”

Then I was gone.



I knew before the elevator doors closed that I wanted to talk to Celia. I’d been blindsided, Hudson’s behavior baffling me so completely, twisting me in knots. I didn’t have the experience with him to sort it out. I desperately needed insight.

She didn’t answer on her first ring so I did the hang-up and return call thing several times. In the midst of my fourth redial, my phone buzzed.

“Did you get my text? I’ll be at the Waldorf this afternoon. Need to see you.”

Goddamn Brian. I hadn’t responded to his earlier message. How fitting was it that I had to deal with him today of all days?

“Text me when you’re in. I’ll come by.”

I pushed Send then tried Celia again. This time she answered right away. “Hey, it’s Laynie. Are you busy?”

“Uh, sort of. What’s up?”

“I, um, need to talk.” My voice cracked.

“Oh, no! What’s wrong? You sound like you’ve been crying.”

I hadn’t been crying—I was crying. “I’d rather talk in person. Are you free to meet up?”

The elevator doors opened in the lobby of Pierce Industries. Dammit. Now I was surrounded by people. I hid my hair over my face, wishing I had my sunglasses, and hurried to the main doors.

“I could do later. Like, this afternoon. Would that work?”

“I don’t know.” I couldn’t comprehend the next fifteen minutes, let alone hours ahead of now. “Let me think. I have to see my brother. Sometime this afternoon. Even though I don’t want to. I don’t know.” I was repeating myself, my mind a fog.

I stepped out onto the street and walked until the glass doors turned into wall. I slumped against the brick. “I’m not really able to make any decisions right now.”

“Okay, I get it. You’re upset.” Celia seemed distracted as she spoke. “You said your brother’s in town? Brian? Is he staying with you at the penthouse?”

“God, no. The Waldorf. It’s Brian’s favorite place in the world.”

“I’m doing a design install in the foyer at Fit Nation on Fifty-First. There’s a coffee shop next door. How about we meet there around two? You’ll be close to the Waldorf, as well.”

Even though it was hours away, I felt better. Not great, but better. “Perfect. Thank you, Celia.”

“Anytime.”

I glanced at the digital clock before pocketing my phone. It was a little after nine. It felt like I’d packed a whole day into a short morning. Whatever I would do for the next few hours was beyond me.

“Ms. Withers?”

I looked up to find Jordan standing at the curb with the Maybach.

“Mr. Pierce suggested I drive you somewhere. To the penthouse or the club, perhaps?”

That was Hudson. Always looking out for me, even when I wanted nothing of the sort. It was actually a relief to have Jordan there. I’d been so muddled that I hadn’t thought to text him for a ride.

With a reluctant gratefulness, I climbed into the back seat. “I don’t want to be at the penthouse. The club, I suppose.”

I spent the rest of the morning shuffling papers around in the office and staring at the blinking cursor on my laptop. I couldn’t seem to get my mind to concentrate on anything. In the past when I felt stressed and unsettled, I resorted to old habits, fell into obsessive behaviors. Those patterns calmed and relaxed me with their compulsive nature. But instead of feeling the need to act, I felt the need to shut down—curl up in a ball and sleep until I felt nothing.