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Will it change him?
Me?
I tap my fingers on the steering wheel.
My phone keeps chirping.
I keep ignoring. Keep thinking.
Kastle shattered me and put me back together. With his mouth. His fingers. His tongue. Flames surged between us. The kind that singes everything in its path. Licks up every drop of moisture until the ground is nothing but ash.
I’m burning.
Still.
Was that the man he’d been all this time? A man who could kiss like that? Whisper dirty words in my ear like that? Steal the spring out of my legs like that?
He told me I could have him soon and, at that moment, I didn’t want ‘soon’. I wanted now. But a few minutes and a car ride later, I’m starting to wonder if that’s a good idea.
I’m still broken.
Kastle’s still bound.
We fit because we expect nothing of each other. But there are new feelings creeping into our good thing. Our simple, uncomplicated friendship. There’s a new dimension that we don’t know. That we haven’t explored.
And the further we fall into each other, the harder it will be to climb back out if we realize the fire’s gone. He’s my compass, but this uncharted territory is too dangerous and uncertain. We may not come out alive.
My phone continues screaming like a spoiled child demanding attention. I should have left this thing on silent.
In a huff, I snap it up, thinking it’s Amelia. It would be just like her to call back and interrogate me about the photo.
I answer the call roughly. “What?”
“Kaelyn, you need to get to the office. Now!”
“Brenna?” I pull the phone back. Check the screen.
“Now, Kae.”
She hangs up.
Urgency makes my fingers tremble. I speed away from the drive-thru line and head to the office. Once I get there, I see Brenna standing on the sidewalk.
She’s got one slender palm over her head, shading her face from the sun. The bottom of her grey maxi dress flutters in the wind.
Her hair’s still up in that messy bun, but the top is pointing in another direction, which means she took her curls down, raked her hands through them and shoved them up again.
Something’s wrong.
I park and scramble out of my car. The main door flies open and workmen march down the stairs with furniture. Our bookshelves. Crates of books. Research papers. Maps.
I storm over to one of the movers. “What the hell are you doing with our stuff?”
“Kaelyn!” Brenna calls for me.
I stomp to her side. “What’s going on?”
“We’re getting kicked out.”
