The Private Serials Box Set(66)

I picked up my book and tried to continue reading, but my mind was drifting back to Becky and what she’d said. What wrongs did she want to make right? And why in the world couldn’t she talk to me about them? Just when I thought I’d reached a point of frustration strong enough to inspire me to march down the hall and knock on her door, I heard her yelling from inside her room. She was obviously in a heated discussion with someone and her voice was carrying right into the living room.

“Listen, I know you’re trying,” she said, “but I can’t do this much longer.” There was a pause. “It’s not fair to anyone.” Pause. “You have three days to get your shit together.”

I didn’t hear any more yelling coming from Becky’s room. In fact, I didn’t hear from her for the rest of the night. Becky and I found ourselves in this living situation in a funny way – almost like fate. Right place, right time. But even though we’re roommates out of convenience, over the last month, I thought we’d become friends. I didn’t want to lose the only person I’d befriended since I’d been here. And what the hell was happening in three days?

I went to bed hoping I’d hear Becky get into another yelling match with whomever was on the other end of her phone call just so I could eavesdrop and do a little more investigating of my own.





Chapter Five


I ran with Ryan for the next three mornings, just like we had the week previously. There were no more instances in which he made me nervous or gave off any weird vibes. In fact, after his sand-eating incident, things between us were pretty friendly. We chatted as we ran, well, as much as we could while running in the sand.

I told him about my roommate and her weird tantrum followed by her strange phone call. He listened, but didn’t really have much advice to offer. He chalked it up to “woman issues” and then changed the subject.

On that third day, the day for which Becky had thrown down the gauntlet to her partner in arguments, I didn’t see her before I left the apartment to run and figured she was going to be gone for work before I came back home, so I wasn’t expecting to see her. I was, however, curious as to whether the other person on the phone with her that night had come through for her and abided by this three-day timeline.

As I was walking up the stairs to my apartment after my run, I caught a dark head of hair out of the corner of my eye. The hair was attached to the head of a man whose back was to me, and whose leg was currently being lifted over the seat of a motorcycle.

All the breath was forced from my body, as if the sudden hollowness of my stomach couldn’t allow any extra room for oxygen. I knew that hair.

The hair was suddenly covered up by a helmet, and that action made my eyes frantically move over his entire being. My hand came to cover my mouth as a strangled sob escaped my lips. Just below that helmet was a black leather jacket, wrapped around a man’s body that I would recognize anywhere.

Preston

I moved to the top of the stairs just as the motorcycle roared to life. The rumbling of the engine shook me, stopping me in my tracks. I watched as this man expertly balanced on the bike, removing the kickstand, and then pulled out of the parking lot before I could get any closer. I watched the bike drive away and then I turned, darting toward my apartment.

I put the key in the lock with shaky hands, making it a hundred times more difficult. When I finally made it inside, I ran directly to my room and found my phone on my nightstand. I entered the phone number that I’d never forget and then brought it to my ear, listening to the line connecting.

I heard Preston’s voice, but it was his voicemail message and it hurt too much to listen. I wasn’t even sure what I would have said had he answered. Everything at that moment was instinctive, gut reactions to what was happening around me. I had all these puzzle pieces, but I couldn’t fit them together with my mind.

Why was Preston here? Why hadn’t he contacted me? Was he here to see me? To hurt me? To find me and take me back to Derrek? There were so many variables, so many things that could be happening, and I couldn’t remember ever feeling that out of control.

I tried to call Becky, just in case he’d stopped by the apartment before she’d left for work, but she didn’t answer either.

I sat down on my bed and hung my head between my knees, trying to drag in calming breaths. My mind was second guessing itself. Maybe it wasn’t Preston. Perhaps there was another man with a black leather jacket riding around Hawaii whose body called out to mine on a primal level. I raised my head up and flopped back onto the bed.

I couldn’t imagine spending a day at work with all these thoughts flittering through my mind, but the reality was I was new in my position and couldn’t risk missing a day. I forced myself off the bed and made my way to the bathroom to get ready for work.



To have thought I could spend a day working while I had visions of Preston riding a freaking motorcycle in paradise was ridiculous. More than once I was caught by a co-worker in a daze and my productivity was atrocious. Not only was I mentally consumed with reasons and ideas as to why Preston would even be in Hawaii, my body was like a drug addict who’d just broken their sobriety – I was craving a fix.

I made my way home from work and just wanted to go inside and open a bottle of wine. As I approached my apartment door, I could hear Becky’s voice softly coming through the walls and I was immediately relieved I wouldn’t be alone. But then I heard a man’s voice and my heart started to beat faster in my chest.