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His words play back in my head, and I’m irritated. Did he just ask me to tell him how long it’s been since the last time we saw each other?
“Hit your head that many times that you can’t count? Sometimes, it’s okay for you to be on top.”
What? What the hell am I saying? I don’t need to think about that.
“Six years and my sex life is the first thing you mention? Why are you so interested in it? Does it bother you to hear that I’ve been with a lot of women since we were together?”
Say no. change the subject. leave.
There is no reason for the two of us to be in the same room. You don't need to know why he's here. You have no claim on him or his life, or his... manhood. You can leave. Aren't you supposed to be on break anyway? Turn around, walk to the door, open it, and leave. You have two feet. This is one of the reasons they were created. Make your exit. It's been done before. You know this. So, go.
No matter what my mind is screaming at me, I don't move. Nope. I remain right where I'm standing. instead of turning towards the door, I turn to face him. Folding my arms, I look directly at him then immediately wish I would’ve followed my mental directions.
His sea green eyes look at me, throw me, and I swear I'm that's stupid lovesick teenager again. I'm frozen in place, wishing my life would have taken a different path.
This is why you should have left but no you had to be the stubbornness.
When my thoughts are right, they’re absolutely, one hundred percent accurate.
Chapter 9
Jaxson
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Savannah, GA April 14- Friday afternoon
When Brooklyn and I parted ways earlier today, I didn't expect to see her again this soon. Actually, I expected we’d have some awkward passings in the hallway. I should have known she'd end up back here since this was where I saw her the first time. I didn't know this was a regular thing for her. At the time, I thought it was a fluke.
Imagine my surprise when I exit the restroom and find her standing, looking at my office door.
“I’m not. I don’t ... your love life or whatever is your business and none of mine. It hasn’t been for a long time now.”
Her words do nothing but piss me off. Some fucked up part of me wants her to be bothered. I want her to have some type of reaction to the perceived persona that comes with the Daire Deville name.
“Exactly. You made sure that was the case, didn’t you?”
Brooklyn reacts like she’s been physically slapped. Part of me wants to take away the hurt even though I’m the one who caused it. The other side of that coin, the darker side, wants her to bleed pain so she can know just what the hell I went through.
I make the mistake of looking into her eyes. What I see, I don’t like. Tears are forming. She blinks several times. I can tell she’s trying not to cry. No matter what I’m feeling, I don’t move.
“Looks like everything worked out in your favor. Good for you. If you’ll excuse me, I have patients who need my attention.”
She turns on her heel then walks out the door. The action is familiar. Too familiar. It’s like I’m reliving that moment all those years ago. This isn’t what I wanted.
