She stares up at the ceiling as though she’s trying to trap more tears, then glances back toward me. “I’m sorry. I have to go, Reed.” With that, she turns back and leaves the room, stalks down the hall, swings open the door, and heads out into the night with her father.
Each step she takes hits me like a flash of fire. Hot, blinding, consuming. I feel it first in my jaw, tight and grinding, like my teeth are trying to fuse together. Then my chest goes heavy and sharp, before my fists curl at my sides and I shove them into my pockets so I don’t do something stupid like punch Pete or chase after her.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I crossed a line I had no business crossing.
Fuck!
My chest aches as I watch her climb up into his truck beneath the pink and orange sky, dirt kicking up as they back out into the dusky night.
I’ve never been in this spot before. The spot where she’s gone and I don’t know if she’s coming back, what she’s going to do, or what she’ll think in the morning.
Fuck!I punch into the drywall, a loud cracking sound splitting the wall near the front door.
I’m so fucking stupid!
She loved me. I loved her. It wasn’t romantic, but it was enough, and I ruined it. She trusted me and I fucking ruined it!
Trouble is… I know I’m not done.
How can I be after I was so close?
How can I be, knowing how much it hurts to have her and lose her?
How can I be, with the thought of someone else touchingmylittle kitten?
Nikki belongs to me, and I’m done pretending otherwise.
Chapter Seven
Nikki
My chest is tight and tears are falling so quickly that I can’t wipe them off my face fast enough. I hate crying around my father. I always get the feeling he thinks crying is weakness. Probably because he’s always saying, ‘crying is weakness.’
Even after my mom died, he was the first to remind me of how much tougher I should be. I still remember him sitting me down the morning after her funeral to tell me how she would’ve wanted me to act. Apparently, he thinks my mother would’ve wanted me to move on with my life immediately. I guess I believed him. In fact, I remember feeling so bad that I wasn’t doing what she would’ve wanted that I spent years apologizing to her ghost.
“Why are you belly achin’ now?” My father flicks on his blinker and turns onto the paved road toward the house. “Mulligan is giving us another chance, and you’re going to nail it this time.”
This is what my father considers encouragement, and despite the fact that I know it’s most likely manipulation, my broken brain sucks it up like a sponge.
“Thanks, Dad, but why does he want to have breakfast with me so badly? Don’t you think it’s weird?”
My father’s forehead wrinkles into at least seven folds as he keeps his eyes on the road. “He’s a lonely man who’s lookingfor a bit of attention with his sale. That’s all this is. So, you give him some attention, you make him feel special, let him think he’s got a shot until he signs the papers. After that, I don’t care what you do, as long as you’re not rude.”
In most circles, I’m pretty sure this would be highly frowned upon, but here at Iron Crest Realty, pimping your daughter out for a sale is fair game.
I swallow hard and wipe away a tear before glancing at my father. The sun has sunk down low and all that’s left of the day is a hushed darkness that swallows the remaining pink in the sky. “This is more than dinner, though,” I say, stomach churning. “Mulligan is so persistent. I don’t feel comfortable alone with him.”
My dad huffs. “Sometimes, we have to be uncomfortable to get the work done, sweetheart. Reed is putting things in your head. He’s making all these men out to be creepers. Mulligan is just a lonely old man who wants to have an uninterrupted meal with a pretty girl. One meal and you’ll have all three sales under your belt.”
My throat tightens as I glance out the windshield to watch the pine trees whip by. I wonder how many times I’ve seen these exact same trees, while having these exact same thoughts.
Thoughts of running, thoughts of escaping, thoughts of climbing into Reed’s arms and disappearing.God, I have to stop doing that.I have to stop thinking of him as my escape hatch, as my protector, as the man I run to when life gets out of control.
Without his blinker, my dad turns left down the gravel driveway and up toward the house I spent most of my childhood in. It’s a sprawling five acres with a main house and a guest cabin he had built when I was sixteen. Originally, it was meant for the folks he invited into town to sell properties to. He’s always taken the hospitality angle to the next level. He believes it’s what sets him apart from other realtors in town.
That said, after a few complaints about the size of the place, he built a bigger cabin on the other side of the property, and I moved into this one when I got back from college with an art degree I’ll never use.
My father was right about that one. There are no jobs to be found in photography, and now I owe so much in student loan debt that I have nothing left to start a business of my own. My best option is working for my father.
