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The less sentimental part of me, on the other hand, couldn’t help but worry how it would be used against him later. I didn’t know Senator Fairfax well enough to guess her thought process, but I felt confident that she hadn’t reconsidered out of the goodness of her heart. Though I couldn’t see it yet, Nathan’s presence would inevitably benefit her in some way.
Agitated, I paced my living room. More than twenty-four hours had passed since that news clip. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that he had decided to stay in Connecticut for a few more days, but I didn’t think so. Every cell in my body told me he was back in Dallas…and still ignoring me.
And why the hell did I even care? I didn’t get involved with clients. I didn’t let myself become invested. I sure as fuck had never put this much effort into any of them, especially not for someone who strived to make my life difficult.
The simple answer was also the hardest to admit. Nathan wasn’t just another client. He was different, special. I could deny it all I wanted, but the little shit had gotten under my skin.
Despite being given every reason to dislike him, I actually cared about the guy.
Fuck.
It had taken every ounce of self-control I possessed to push him away when he’d kissed me at the park. And while it had killed me to see the hurt in his eyes, I stood by that decision. While my standards of what constituted a good person could be described as morally ambiguous at best, I didn’t knowingly take advantage of people.
Nathan had been drunk, vulnerable, and that was a line I hadn’t been willing to cross.
Granted, not kissing an intoxicated guy while he was grieving the death of his father was a pretty low bar. Worse, under different circumstances, I couldn’t say for certain that I wouldn’t have given in to temptation.
So, yeah, I was a real beacon of righteousness.
The smart thing to do would have been to walk away, refund the money, and pretend like I had never set eyes on Nathan Fairfax. I had enough self-awareness to know that wasn’t going to happen. Even if my feelings had been completely platonic—which they weren’t—I refused to be another person in a long line of people who had let Nathan down.
My phone chimed with an incoming message, and I practically threw myself across the living room to retrieve it from the coffee table. My hands shook as I fumbled to unlock the screen, and it was at that moment I realized my ridiculousness had reached levels previously unfathomable. I didn’t spook easily. I didn’t get rattled. In truth, I prided myself on remaining calm and rational under pressure.
Yet, there I was, losing my mind over a fucking text message like a teenager.
NATHAN: Can we meet somewhere?
GAGE: Sure. Where do you want to go?
I watched the bouncing bubbles appear and disappear on the screen for almost a full minute before his response finally came through.
NATHAN: You decide.
A restaurant or café would have been the natural choice, but I had a feeling Nathan didn’t want to talk. At least, not right away, and I didn’t want him to feel pressured to do so. Luckily, I had a much better idea.
After a quick search on my phone, I sent him the address of where to meet me and hurried to the shower. After a quick wash, I pulled on a pair of worn jeans and dark green, long-sleeved Henley.
Showing zero regard for irrelevant things like speed limits, I arrived at my destination within twenty minutes and found a parking place close to the entrance. To my surprise, Nathan was already waiting for me on the sidewalk.
His usually buoyant curls appeared dull and lifeless, and purplish shadows swept beneath both eyes. He looked as if he hadn’t slept since the last time I’d seen him. Since he was dressed in a pair of gray joggers and a black, oversized sweatshirt, I couldn’t tell for sure, but I thought he might have also lost weight.
“Hey!” I greeted as I approached him, making sure my tone and expression didn’t give away my concern.
He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants and rounded his shoulders. “Hey,” he mumbled back with much less enthusiasm. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have better things to do."
My heart squeezed in pain and sympathy, but I kept my voice light when I answered. “Actually, you saved me from having to do dishes.” I thought I detected a hint of a smile flash across his face. “Are you ready?”
“Uh…yes?” Standing as close to my side as he could without actually touching me, he stared up at the building with a knitted brow. “What is this place?”
“A rage room.”
He nodded, though his expression didn’t clear. “Like one of those places where you smash stuff with a sledgehammer?”
“That’s the one.” I figured we could both use some stress relief, and breaking shit sounded a lot safer than other activities I had in mind.
“I don’t know.” He chewed his bottom lip and shuffled closer until our arms pressed together. “I don’t have muscles like you. What if I can’t do it?”
“You’ll be fine.” I hooked an arm around his neck and ushered him toward the entrance. “There’s smaller stuff you can throw at the wall or onto the floor. You can kick stuff, stomp on it, knock it over. There aren’t any rules, Nate. Just do what feels right.”
