Junkyard Dog(28)

A hard, pained sensation grows in my gut that I can’t shake. My kids own my heart. Imagining their happy faces when they talked about sharing a class, I admired Hayes for fixing a problem I couldn’t. When I watched them create their cards, I let myself dream of a future that included the *.

Now I realize he has his tender moments, but they’re fleeting. Hayes doesn’t need to be sweet to anyone. He lives separate from the rest of us. Hayes has no need for friends, girlfriends, and even his father. He is perfectly happy living in his Hayes world where only his needs matter.

My bad mood worsens as I accept I want something from Hayes I’ll never have. We normally kiss off and on during the day. Each time feels more comfortable yet hotter. I know his touch. I wait for it all day. Now I don’t want him touching me. His reaction to the cards is a wake-up call I shouldn’t need. I’m smarter than this heartbroken dipshit I see in the mirror.

“Let’s meet a moron for lunch,” Hayes says, walking out of his office.

I follow him without speaking. I’m hoping if I remain silent for long enough that he’ll never know I’m upset. We climb into his truck, and he frowns at me. I’m too quiet, and I usually talk a lot. Before he can push for an explanation, I turn on the radio and find a song I can hum along with.

Hayes isn’t fooled but focuses his anger at the moron we’re meeting.

“The * picks Arby’s out of all the places in town to meet,” he grumbles while we wait at a red light. “It won’t take long for him to whine about his bullshit and for me to tell him to f*ck off.”

My voice will betray me, so I only nod at his comments. Hayes frowns for the rest of the drive, remaining silent until we arrive at Arby’s. He blocks my way before we go inside.

“What’s your deal?”

“What are we doing here?” I ask, hoping to change the subject.

“You act like you’ve got a stick’s rammed up your ass. Why?”

“I’m on my period,” I say, afraid to look at him and give away how my feelings have changed.

“You were on your period last week. I remember because you used it as an excuse to order two desserts during lunch.”

“I’m just moody. Why do I need a reason?”

Hayes studies me. “Why won’t you look at me?”

“I am looking at you.”

Hayes frowns. “Not like before.”

Forcing my gaze to meet his, I mumble, “You get to be in a bad mood all the time. Why can’t I have an off day?”

“So nothing’s wrong?”

“No.”

Hayes calls my bluff when his lips meet mine. I can’t enjoy our kiss. I don’t push him away, but I can’t give him what he wants. Hayes nips at my bottom lip, showing his anger at how unresponsive I am.

I stare into his eyes, and he studies me hard. Hayes is a smart guy, but he doesn’t get why I don’t want him. I could end the suspense and explain why he and I can’t work. I don’t though.

The words are too difficult, and I’m too weak to face reality yet. I wanted something amazing to happen between Hayes and me. Now I realize it never will.





EIGHTEEN - HAYES


Candy claims a bad day is why her usual loud mouth has turned silent on me. She’s lying, of course. Her bad day stretches into a second one and then a third. When I kiss her, my lips don’t meet resistance as much as indifference. Worse is how she doesn’t smile anymore. She refuses to even f*cking look at me.

In the past, Candy talked so much and answered me so openly that I believed I knew her. I don’t know shit.

She sits in the next room, working at her desk, and I don’t know why she’s turned cold. I run through possibilities, but none make sense. There’s no other man to steal away her affections. I’d know if anyone so much as flirted with her.

One minute, Candy was smiling and teasing me. Then she was pissed. Now I’m pissed. I asked why she was upset, and she f*cking lied. I’m not asking again. She’s a great assistant, and I care whether she lives or dies. She matters to me, but I won’t beg. Not for her. Not for anyone.

My life feels too quiet since she turned cold. In fact, I’m desperate enough for a break from the quiet that I invite Moot to my house to watch a football game. Friendship isn’t something I enjoy, but I’ll pretend if it gets my mind off Candy.

“What the hell?” Moot asks, looking at the thank you cards on my fridge. “Do you have kids I don’t know about?”

I study the colorful pictures and try not to let Moot’s question piss me off. Talking about Candy does not in any way keep me from thinking about her.

“Those belong to my assistant’s kids.”

“Candy?”

“Yeah, that would be her name.”

“Ah, problems in paradise, huh?” Moot asks, opening the fridge to get himself a beer.

“She does good work in the office.”

Grinning, Moot takes his beer to the adjoining family room. He reclines in a chair and sighs.

“I forgot how great leather chairs feel.”

I sit on the couch next to Nightmare, who doesn’t even stir. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hate having someone in my house.”

“Why invite me?” Moot asks, leaning back as his legs go up.