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To look up and see what lay ahead of me.
Only to feel a crushing sort of disappointment to find something in the way.
A piece of wood.
Thick.
An old door, maybe?
Laid over the whole opening that could have led to the upper floor.
Pride completely abandoned under my bubbling hysteria, I flew up the stairs, dropping the rebar, slamming at the wood with useless fingers, powerless palms, feeling splinters slide under the skin, yelling, screaming.
It wasn’t until I heard him that I stopped.
He was chuckling.
At me.
And that was about all I could take.
My pride, pounded unrecognizable, but still fighting, forced me back down the stairs, grabbing my rebar weapons, sinking down the wall. Once my butt landed down, my pride finally gave one last, gasping breath. A death exhale.
My hands rose up to my face as the tears started, fast, uncontrollable.
And I did all I could do.
I prayed Kai could come and save me.
–
Flashback – 28 months before –
“Does he always growl at you?” Gemma asked, standing at her desk spritzing the roots of her orchid with water.
“Gunner?” Jules asked, distractedly trying to sort through the mess of paperwork he had dropped on her desk. From what she could tell, there were five different ones all shuffled together. He did it to screw with her. He always did. Ever since that conversation a bit after she started working there.
“Yes, Gunner,” Gemma agreed, and Jules could feel her gaze on the top of her head but didn’t look up.
“Ah, yeah. He always growls at me.”
“Why?”
“Because he doesn’t like me.”
“That’s ridiculous. Everyone likes you.”
“No, Gemmy, everyone likes you. I often have a tendency to rub people the wrong way. And he rubs almost everyone the wrong way.”
“So… there’s been a lot of… rubbing?”
“Gemmy!” Jules half-gasped, half-scolded, finally looking up at her sister.
“Don’t look so outraged. I know all about rubbing. And all kinds of other things.”
“Oh, my God. Stop. Last month you were still wearing pigtails and jellies.”
“Please,” Gemma said, rolling her eyes. “I’m not a kid anymore, Jules.”
“You’re my kid sister. And you are forbidden to do any kind of rubbing or anything else that you know all about.”
“So you did. Rub,” she specified, a dog with a bone on the matter.
“Oh, gross. No.”
“Gross? He’s gorgeous.”
“He’s a brute.”
“Right. And you can only date people straight up and down. In suits. With impressive resumes and plans for his future.”
“You make me sound like a snob.”
“No. No,” Gemma said more firmly, upset that anyone would think she was being nasty. “It’s just… how can you know that that kind of guy is the right kind of guy for you?”
“If someone checks all your boxes, you know they have the same plans for their lives.”
“Plans. Goals. How very un-romantic. What if there’s a guy. And he doesn’t wear a suit. And he doesn’t pay into a 401k. Say he grows blueberries, raises baby goats. Say he is always in plaid and jeans and smells a bit like hay. He doesn’t check any of your boxes. But he loves you. I mean he really loves you, Jules. Thinks you are the reason the sun wakes up every morning? What if the man who can love you best doesn’t check a single one of your boxes?” she asked as Kai’s office door closed, the shuffle of his sneaker-clad feet moving down the hall until he burst into the doorway, giving Gemma the soft smile everyone was known to do before shooting one in her direction as well.
She looked back at her sister, having to shake her head a bit to brush away some weird fog hanging over it.
“Then I guess he isn’t the right guy.”
SEVEN
Kai
I knew she needed some space, needed to think things through, but it had been almost an hour.
I was starting to get worried.
I battled with myself for another twenty minutes before I finally grabbed my keycard, cell, and keys in case she maybe took a walk.
It was another thirty minutes later, after searching the lobby, the grounds, doing a quick sweep of the close area she could have walked to that the panic started to grip me.
This was Jules.
She was smart.
Careful.
She wouldn’t have taken off somewhere.
Even if she was angry with me, she would have texted at least.
But there was nothing.
I wasn’t feeling like myself as I tore back into the hotel, going past the front desk and down a side hall meant for employees only.
And I wasn’t acting like myself when my hand just started slamming on the door of the security room.
Impatient.
Frustrated.
Crazy situations, those were my job. I lived on that adrenaline. I thrived on chaos. I prided myself on being able to keep my calm even in unpredictable, dangerous interactions. I could talk my way into whatever I wanted, or out of whatever I didn’t want. Without the other person realizing they were the ones giving up things. At least until it was too late anyway.
