Unsuitable(69)

“I…she—I mean, Haley—”

“You know her name.” His voice is quiet but dangerous.

I nod, and a tear falls down my cheek. I free my hand and brush it away.

Kas is staring at me, but it’s like he doesn’t even see me right now. “What else do you know?”

I bite my lip, afraid to speak.

“What do you know?” he repeats, yelling.

I jump to attention. “I looked Haley up on the Internet.”

The silence that hits is like a bulldozer hitting brick, and the look Kas gives me makes me want to curl up and die.

“You know.” It’s not a question.

But I’m quick to reply, “O-only what was in the articles.” My voice is wobbling all over the place. “Th-that Haley was…that she was mu-murdered, and…” I pause, meeting his fiery stare. “That someone else was there with her that night, someone who was also…injured.”

His eyes close, as if he’s in actual pain. Anguish distorts his beautiful face.

I feel sick to my stomach.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, more tears sliding down my face.

It’s so quiet. Only my pathetic whimpers and Kas’s labored breathing can be heard.

“Fuck!” he roars, throwing his head back.

The sound is so feral that it rips at my heart like claws.

Tormented black eyes swing back my way.

Then, without a word, he throws my phone to the ground at my feet, and he’s moving…leaving. He strides away from me, his long legs quickly eating up the distance.

Fear seizes me. What do I do?

Go after him.

I scoop up my phone off the ground—my stupid phone that caused this problem in the first place—and I run for my bag. I drop the phone inside, and then I start running in the direction of Kas.

I just need to apologize…explain.

Tears are drying on my face as I run. I finally catch up with him in the car park, near his car.

“Kas, wait, please,” I pant, out of breath.

He ignores me and keeps moving toward his car. So, I pick up my speed, sprinting to him. I catch up with him just as he’s opening his car door. I curl my hand around his arm, stopping him.

He swings back to me, his eyes staring down at my hand like he wants to break it off.

I quickly drop my hand. “Please, just let me explain,” I plead.

“No.”

“Please, Kas.”

Hard eyes bore into me. “You need to stay the fuck away from me.”

Agony seizes my chest.

He climbs into his car.

Panic-stricken, I move between the driver’s door and the car to stop him from closing it.

“Move out of the fucking way,” he grinds out.

“No.”

His eyes burn up at me. “Don’t make me move you, Daisy.”

Nerves make me swallow hard. “Please, Kas, just hear me out, and then you can leave.”

He glares at me. The hatred in his eyes makes my body start to tremble. “I don’t have to do a fucking thing. And you have nothing that I want to hear. Now, move the fuck away from my car!”

Ignoring his anger, I fight back, “I at least deserve a chance to explain! When you screwed up—twice—I gave you a chance!”

He pins me with a dead stare. “Then, you were a fool.” Cold contemplation quickly enters his eyes. “Or is that me, for thinking you were someone you clearly aren’t?”

Those words hit like a knife between my shoulder blades.

I gulp back. My throat burns, like I’m swallowing acid. I swipe a hand at the tears sliding down my face.

“And you can stop with the tears. They don’t affect me. Now, move the hell away from my car, or I will move you, and it won’t be pretty,” he says low with meaning.

Fear shakes me to the core. I’ve never heard him sound that way before. Like he actually means me harm.

Knowing that there is nothing I can do or say to get him to listen to me, I take a defeated step away.

The second I move, he slams the car door shut, and then he’s revving the engine and pulling away a second later, his tires kicking up against the gravel, leaving me in a cloud of dust.

As I watch his car leave, a sob hitches in my throat. Covering my mouth with my hand, I swallow it back.

I’ve screwed up badly. He’s never going to forgive me.

I look around me. Thankfully, the car park is empty of people.

Taking a shaky breath in, I dry my face with my hands, and then I get my phone from my bag and press the last number in my Call History, calling the only person I’ve ever been able to rely on.

Hand trembling, I put my phone to my ear.

“Hey,” Cece sings down the line. “How’s the date going?”

“Ce…can you come pick me up?” My voice wobbles.

“Daisy, what’s wrong?” Her tone is instantly protective.