Fueled (Driven, #2)(96)

I trudge in the house, drop my bag rather unceremoniously on the floor by the front door, and collapse on the couch. And that is where Haddie finds me hours later when she walks through the door.

“What’d he do to you, Rylee?” Her demand rouses me from sleep. Her hands are on her hips as she stands over me, and her eyes search mine for an answer.

“Oh, Haddie, I screwed up royally,” I sigh as I let the tears that I’d been holding back flow. She sits down on the coffee table in front of me, hand on my knee in support, and I relay everything to her.

When I finish she just shakes her head and looks at me with eyes full of compassion and empathy. “Well, sweetie, if anything’s screwy, it’s definitely not you!” she says. “All I can say is that you need to give him a little time. You probably scared the shit out of Mr. Free-Wheelin’-Bachelor to death. Love. Commitment. All that shit...” she waves her hand through the air “...is a big step for someone like him.”

“I know.” I hiccup through my tears. “I just didn’t expect him to be so cold…so nonchalant about it. I think that’s what hurts the most.”

“Oh, Ry.” She leans in and hugs me tightly. “I’ll call in sick to the event tonight so you’re not alone.”

“No don’t,” I tell her. “I’m fine. I’ll probably just eat a gallon of ice cream and go to sleep anyway. Go...” I shoo her away with my hands “...I’ll be fine. I promise.”

She just stares at me for a moment, debating whether I’m lying or not. “Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath, “but just remember something…you’re awesome, Rylee. If he doesn’t see that...if he doesn’t see everything you have to offer in and out of the sack...then f*ck him and the horse he rode in on.”

I give her a slight smile. Leave it to Haddie to put it eloquently.





The next morning passes without hearing from him. I decide to text him.

Hi, Ace. Call me when you have a chance. We need to talk. XO.

My phone remains silent for most of the day despite how many times I’ve looked at it and checked to see if I have good service. As the day drags on, my unease settles in, and I start to realize that I’ve probably done irrevocable damage.

Finally at three o’clock I receive a response. My hopes soar at the prospect of having contact with him.

Busy all day in meetings. Catch you later.

And then my hopes take a nosedive.





On the third day post the I-love-you disastrous confession, I get up the nerve to call his office on my way in to the office. “CD Enterprises, can I help you?”

“Colton Donavan please,” I answer, my knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.

“May I ask who’s calling please?”

“Rylee Thomas.” My voice cracks.

“Hi, Ms. Thomas, let me check. Just a moment please.”

“Thanks,” I whisper, anxiety eating at me as I hope he answers and then at what to say if he does.

“Ms. Thomas?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. Colton’s not in today. He’s out sick. Can I take a message? Can Tawny help you with anything?”

My heart moves up into my throat at the words. If he is in fact sick, she wouldn’t have had to check. She would’ve known.

“No. Thank you.”

“My pleasure.”





The past few days have started to take their toll on me. I look a mess, so much so that even make-up isn’t helping. On day four I feel like I would give anything to take my words back. To take us back to the moments before where we were connected in the moment of his unyielding trust in me. But I can’t.

Instead, I sit at my desk and stare aimlessly at the pile of work on my desk without any desire to do anything. I look up at the knock on my open door to see Teddy. “You okay, kiddo? You don’t look so good.”

I force a smile. “Yeah. I think I’m coming down with something,” I lie. Anything to avoid the questioning look and the I-told-you-so tone. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, well don’t stay too late. I think you’re the last one. I’ll tell Tim down in the lobby you’re still up here so that he can walk you to your car.”

“Thanks, Teddy.” I smile. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

My smile fades as he turns his back from me. I watch Teddy walk to the elevators and into the open car while I muster up the courage to call him again. I don’t want to come off desperate, but I am. I need to talk to him. To show him that even though I said the words, things are still the same between us. I pick up my cell phone but know he probably won’t pick up if he sees my number. I opt for the office line.

On the third ring the phone picks up “Donavan.”

My heart pounds in my chest at the sound of his voice. Keep it light, Rylee. “Ace?” I say breathlessly.

“Rylee?” His voice seems so far away as he says my name. So distant. So detached and bordering on annoyed.

“Hi,” I say timidly. “I’m glad I got ahold of you.”

“Yeah, sorry I haven’t called you back,” he apologizes, but he sounds off. He’s talking to me in the same irritated tone that he spoke to Teagan with.