Page 117 of Mr. Wicked


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But even though Jovana wasn’t in my line of sight, she was far from gone.

That had nothing to do with being surrounded by her things.

That was because she lived in my head, and I couldn’t get her out.

Fuck, I didn’t want to.

I drained the rest of my glass, and as I was getting up to pour another few fingers’ worth, she came out of her wing, wearing a dark hoodie. She had in earbuds. Her hat was gone, her hair twisted high on her head.

As she neared the front door, I asked, “Where are you going?”

“For a walk.”

I checked the time. It was past ten.

“At this hour?”

She slipped her phone into the pocket of her sweatshirt. “I didn’t get to walk this morning and I need it. I’m feeling—I don’t know what I’m feeling. So, yes, I’m going at this hour.”

“No.”

Her brows lifted and stayed. “No?” She added in a laugh.

“Yeah, no, you’re not going. I don’t care how safe this area is, you’ll be out there alone, in the dark, and something could happen. That’s not going to go down on my watch—not while you’re living with me.”

She shifted her weight between her legs. “And how exactly do you plan on stopping me from going?”

I chuckled, but mine was deeper and grittier than hers. “You really want to test me on that?”

“Why do you make everything so difficult?” Her hands went to her hips.

I had an answer for that.

But it wasn’t one I was ready to share.

I could barely settle the words in my own head, never mind speak them out loud.

“There’s a gym on the first floor. Go find your way to the treadmill.”

She shook her head. “No. I’m definitely not doing that.”

“Then I’m going on a walk with you.” I waited for her to respond. “Your choice: Treadmill or having me as company? Pick one.”

She rolled her eyes. “Hurry up.”

I left the glass on the island in the kitchen and walked into my bedroom, changing into a pair of sweats, a sweatshirt, and sneakers, and joined her in the entryway.

“You had to go with the gray sweats, didn’t you?”

I glanced down my body, trying to see what she saw. “Huh?”

“I don’t expect you to understand.” She released a long breath. “Let’s go.”

I followed her through the door and into the elevator and out the front of my building. Once we hit the sidewalk, her speed tripled, and I was suddenly rushing to keep up. “Jesus, slow down.”

“You wanted to come, don’t forget that.”

It wasn’t that I wanted to come; it was that I didn’t want her to be alone.

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