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I get to my feet. Either I do this or I go home. I walk across the deserted street and over to his building. The pounding in my chest becomes louder as I near the entrance. God, I’m shaking so hard I can barely walk. I try telling myself this isn’t a big deal, that I’m making this into more than it needs to be, but even I don’t believe that lie. This is the man who rejected me my whole life. He wasn’t there when I needed him most and I’ll never forgive him for that. This isn’t about reconnecting with my father; any chance of that is long gone. Now, it’s about protecting the most important person in my life.
I can’t do it.
Just as I reach the door, I walk straight past, stopping outside the next building. Cursing, I take my anger out on its brick exterior. I launch my foot against it and stumble back. I bend over and rest my hands on my knees, trying to contain my rage.
I just can’t face him—not without resurfacing everything I’ve worked so hard to suppress.
I turn around and lean against the building. I close my eyes, wishing I knew what to do. What is the right thing? Do I let it go or fight? Each has its own set of consequences. This whole thing is a mess and I have no idea what I’m going to do to fix it. That’s the thing: there is no fix for this.
Just go home, get some sleep, and figure it out when you can think straight.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I admit defeat and push myself off the wall. I’m about to walk off when I see her. Lacey. I can’t breathe as I watch her push through the revolving doors of his building back onto the street as though she’s on a mission. Her hair blows in the wind, trailing down her back over her charcoal jacket. She walks fast, as if she’s late for something. Or wanting to get away from something. I want to call out to her, but I don’t, because I don’t want to explain why I’m here and I don’t want to hear why she is. Because there’s only one explanation.
I search my mind, wanting so badly to come up with another reason she’d be leaving his building at six in the fucking morning, but I can’t think of one. Because there isn’t one, because there’s only one explanation and it kills me.
My best friend, the girl I’ve been in love with since forever, is fucking my father.
Trailing a few blocks behind, I follow her all the way home. Then, because that isn’t enough, I sit out the front of her place for what feels like hours. She doesn’t notice me, because if she did she’d be outside, wanting to know what was wrong. So I just sit there, my anger brewing, until I’m nearly at boiling point.
What the fuck is she thinking? She may not know he’s my father, but he’s still twenty years older than she is. What the hell makes her think that’s okay?
If I don’t get out of here now, I’ll end up doing something I’ll regret.
Reluctantly, I pull myself up from the grass and brush the dirt off my arse. I’m tired, hungry, and still so angry.
With one last glance over my shoulder at her bedroom window, I storm off.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lacey
I ca
n’t stop thinking about Aaron, but if I’m honest with myself, it’s more than that. I think about Aaron because it gives me a legitimate reason to not to think about Lucas.
Work is awkward, mainly because I don’t know where our night together leaves us. I’m not the type of girl who just falls into a guy’s bed, and while it didn’t go as far as it could have, it still went further than it should have. Especially considering he’s seventeen years older than I am. And my boss. While I know this internship is only temporary, I almost slept with a man nearly twice my age and I don’t know how I feel about it. That isn’t going to go away.
Then on top of all of that, there is Lucas.
He is the reason I couldn’t go through with last night. I’m angry that even after all these years, my feelings are still haunting me. I wish Ariel had kept her mouth shut. But even as I think that, I know it’s not true.
Sitting at my desk, I’m working my way through some files Aaron left out for me, when he calls me into his office. I stand outside his door and take a deep breath. What is he going to say? That last night was a mistake? Or that he wants to see me again? After the way he left me this morning, I’m not sure what I want right now. I like him, but it’s so much more complicated than that.
“Close the door,” he says, not looking up from his laptop.
I do, and walk over to his desk where I sit. I clasp my hands together tightly in my lap and wait for him to speak. I can’t even meet his eyes because I’m feeling so embarrassed.
“Are you okay?”
I clear my throat, buying myself time to think about that question. Am I okay? Not really. I woke up this morning in his bed, alone, to find he wasn’t home. No note or anything. Is he angry that I stopped him last night? Even though I have no right, I feel used, and I hate feeling that way.
“I’m feeling a little off,” I mumble. It’s not a complete lie, and I can’t bring myself to be honest with how I’m feeling. “Maybe I’m coming down with something,” I add, to give my story more substance. He nods, but doesn’t look convinced.
“I’m sorry I had to leave so abruptly. I was called out, and I didn’t see the point in waking you.” He hesitates, and then rises from his chair. He wanders over to the window and gazes out, his hand in his pocket. “I feel like we’ve stepped over the line of what’s appropriate for our relationship.”
I smirk, quickly wiping it off my face when he raises his eyebrows. He’s my boss. Of course we have.
“Sorry, I just thought that went without saying,” I mutter, feeling the need to explain myself.
