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“We’ll talk soon,” she says to Hayden, still not bothering to look in my direction. “Text me your new number once you get your new phone.”
I watch Parker walk away because I just have to, my eyes glued to her back, my heart begging her to look back at me over her shoulder. I’m so fickle. One minute I need her to leave, the next I want her to stay. Maybe I just want her to want to stay with me.
Parker does give a little wave, but it’s directed at her friend. Once again, I don’t exist.
“Want to explain that?” Hayden asks, making my eyes snap in her direction.
While watching Parker, Hayden was watching me, and I know I look guilty. I can feel the heat on my cheeks.
“Is she single?” I ask stupidly, wanting to change the subject but also wanting more information on her. A masochist, remember?
“Parker will always be single,” Hayden says.
My face falls, a reaction I couldn’t control on a good day.
This is not a good day.
I give her a quick nod and walk away.
Chapter 24
Parker
My hands tremble as I press the button on the elevator. My body is still. Anyone looking at me wouldn’t have a clue about the battle in my head or the burn behind my eyes. I’ve been struggling so much lately, Hayden asked me if I was on drugs. My issues with Jude look similar to drug addiction. If that’s not a flashing warning label then I don’t know what is.
She guessed that I was seeing a man at Quinten’s building, and I lied to her and told her I wasn’t. She didn’t believe me, of course.
I knew there was a possibility of running into him when I showed up, but then everything was derailed when I spotted Hayden. She was not supposed to be there.
My apology to her was sincere even though showing up at the Blackbridge office had nothing to do with her. I felt like a complete jerk. Not for darting away so quickly this morning after running into her in the parking garage, but for the thoughts I had.
I was mad, willing to be angry for a long while about her calling Quinten instead of calling me first after what happened to her yesterday, but then the confrontation with my half-brother took place, and what did I want to do?
Jude was the first person that came to mind when I finally made it inside my apartment. He was who I wanted to call. It was his comfort I needed.
I didn’t of course. He made it very clear that what we had was over.
I considered horrible things because my friend didn’t choose me, and then I did the exact same damn thing, and I hate myself for it.
As I climb off the elevator, I realize I didn’t even get to talk to one of the employees at the office about needing help. The altercation with my half-brother left me feeling weak and scared, and although those feelings pissed me off, I’m not fool enough to not do anything about it. I went to the office to ask them if they could do a background check or provide some type of security because the man who accosted me doesn’t know who I am. Even though he thinks I’m my mother or some other woman sleeping with his dad, I don’t know that the clarification would stop him from hurting me if he got angry enough. The fire in his eyes each time I’ve seen him is strong enough that I don’t think angry words are going to be his final move.
I tremble all the way home, scared and shaken. The day hasn’t gotten any better. I’m running on fumes from being up since yesterday morning but taking a moment to rest isn’t possible. The need to escape is like a living thing inside of me.
When I get home, I sit in my car, waiting and watching, trying to determine if the man has come back, but after ten minutes of not seeing him, I risk going inside.
I need to leave, to get away, not only from my half-brother but what I’m feeling inside about Jude. I don’t get tangled up over men. I don’t spend time in my head wondering about what could happen.
I use and discard. I walk away long before I start to form any kind of emotional attachment. It’s how I protect myself, how I prevent becoming exactly like my mother, a slave to a man I could never own, a man who could never love me the way I deserve.
Jude snuck up on me. His smile. The pink in his cheeks when he says something with gumption but doesn’t feel it completely inside. The way his eyes sparkle when I strip naked in front of him. The appreciation he shows my body rather than expectancy.
