AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
It didn't matter. She was already gone.
10
Kylie
Over the next few weeks I did anything and everything possible to keep my mind off of Seb. Being busy helped, but nothing could erase the fingerprints he left on my soul. We hadn't spent much time together, and yes, I didn't know Seb very well, but the few moments we shared altered the way I viewed the world, changed a vital part of me. A part I didn't know I possessed until Sebastien St. Clair reached inside and yanked it to the surface.
“Kylie?” Few things could pull my attention away from my computer. My boss was one of them. I stopped typing and glanced at Rita as she stood next to my chair, perfectly coiffed from head to toe, as usual. “You do realize you're not getting paid to be here,” Rita pointed out, her sculpted brows squished together. “These long hours aren't healthy, believe me, I know.”
“I’m aware of that.”
Ignoring my reply, Rita continued to stare until I squirmed like a little kid. With the exception of Rocco, she was the only person I’d met who could send you on a guilt trip with a single look. I had to hand it to them, Rocco and Rita had the “frown and make you feel like a disappointment” face down pat.
Rita's forehead smoothed and her eyes expressed genuine concern. She rested a hip on the corner of the desk and crossed her arms. “Then go home. Or did you not notice your shift ended three hours ago?”
Three hours?
I leaned back to stretch my stiff neck and casually glanced around the cavernous workspace. The bustle of activity appeared par for the course, but then, CNN is a twenty-four-hour news network. The graveyard shift was as busy as during the day. There aren’t any windows in the main newsroom, so I couldn't look outside to see if it was dark out. But the fact that I didn't recognize a single face in the crowd, well, that in itself said plenty. Plus, the um, roughly million or so clocks that hung on the walls and represented cities in every time zone across the globe, including Atlanta. Those were pretty telling, too.
“Are you in trouble?” Rita asked, her voice low. “If there’s a reason you don't want to go home, HR has people you can talk to.”
“What?” My eyes just about bugged out of my skull. The last thing I needed was for my boss to think I had an abusive home life. “No! I mean, no thank you. I'm fine. It's nothing like that, I promise.”
I tapped my fingers on the arm of the chair as I tried to explain my situati
on without disclosing any actual facts or details. My personal life was… well, personal. Rita didn't get where she was by backing down easily. Like Piper, she wouldn't be satisfied until I gave her more.
I sighed and rubbed my temples. “I guess… I guess you can say I'm, uh, going through a breakup of sorts. Kind of.” I winced at how lame it sounded.
Shockingly, it worked. Understanding crossed Rita's face and she looked relieved. “Ah, those can be tough. Sorry about that.” She leaned closer and tipped her chin toward my computer. “I’ve dealt with my share of breakups by burying myself in work.” I nodded, glad she could sympathize. “But… to be honest?” Rita continued. My optimism shriveled. “In the long run, the only thing that heals you is time.” She patted my shoulder. “Go home and get some sleep.”
Rita turned and walked away. I knew her parting words weren’t a suggestion. They were an order. Wonderful. I powered down and cleaned up my area. Satisfied everything else could wait, I grabbed my bag, shrugged on my coat, and headed out. The closer I got to my car, the worse I felt. My insides twisted and I thought my heart might flop out of my chest and land on the oil-stained concrete of the parking garage.
“Go home and get some sleep,” I muttered. “Fat chance.”
Between the stress of avoiding Seb, and somehow still making Rocco happy by attending home games, sleep had become a precious commodity. On top of that, ignoring the constant flurry of texts and phone calls from Seb was draining. Worse? The total silence that followed a couple days later when I didn’t respond to a single one.
I should have been happy Seb gave up and moved on. That was my intention. So why did it feel like my sternum cracked open? Not that it mattered. What I should have been asking myself was, how on earth did I ever think I could get involved with Seb and walk away in one piece?
Because I'm an idiot. An idiot who went and fell in love with the unattainable Sebastien St. Clair.
“Are you sure you don't want me to ask if there are any seats closer to the ice?”
I ground my molars and gouged my nails into my palms to keep from shouting at my overly helpful, highly irritating, tirelessly helicoptering brother.
“No. Thank you. I'm good where I am." As though he didn't know that already, considering he asked the exact same question before every single game and in turn, got the exact same response. Every. Single. Time.
Rocco shot me the stink-eye as he headed for the door. “So sue me for wanting to make you happy.”
Exasperated, I threw myself onto the couch, face first. “I’m happy,” I said, muffled by the cushion. “Now please, stop asking about the stupid seat.”
I didn't need to see him to know Rocco had a scowl plastered on his mug. Whatever. He needed to get over it. Okay, fine. Some of the blame for my current mess was on me. Over the last few weeks my moods had been all over the place—from depressed and on the verge of tears, to furious and boiling over with rage. Poor Rocco ended up on the receiving end of most of my erratic emotional swings. That didn't excuse him from being a jerk, though, and his constant nagging had finally wormed its way onto my last remaining nerve.
“You know you can talk to me, Ky.” Oh my god. I groaned and thumped my head into the cushion. He’s so damn persistent and, from the sound of it, Rocco wasn’t near the door anymore. He was standing next to the couch. “About anything.”
You say that now…
