After Hours (InterMix)(98)

“Guess this is over, then.” His voice sounded stark in the night air.

“We were never a thing, Kelly.”

His brows drew together, more annoyed than hurt. “I always figured we must have been something, if we f*cked all those times. But I get it. Loud and clear.”

I felt myself receding, pulling away out of shame. Of course he was right. But I hadn’t let myself count whatever we’d been, because I’d never had the security of knowing he was mine, alone, for keeps. Worse than that, I’d denigrated the sex for the same reason. Written off the most formative intimate experiences I’d ever had as some sordid fling just because it wasn’t going to lead to boyfriend-girlfriendhood or some stupid nonsense?

Or because deep down, I wouldn’t admit I could care for someone like Kelly, because of who he was . . . or who I’d thought he was, at first. My sister’s type. My mother’s type. Not mine, not levelheaded, practical me, the one who made the good decisions.

What good decisions? I had to wonder. Baiting Marco? Violating Kelly’s privacy? Continually thinking my sister’s issues were mine to fix?

God, I could be such a deluded bitch.

I took a deep breath and ordered my shoulders to unbunch. “Okay, yes. We were something. And it was fun.”

“A day at the water park is fun,” Kelly said, still visibly pissed.

“It was really nice, okay? It was great, and it was the best sex I’ve ever had.” And in brief moments, it had been the closest I’d felt to a man, and the most safe, the most . . . cherished, in a way, despite the fact that he’d ostensibly been degrading me, at least to start.

But brief moments of true intimacy weren’t bricks enough to build any kind of lasting foundation. Not one strong enough to weather this current shitstorm.

“I didn’t think you’d care this much,” I told him. “I thought it was all a game to you.”

“You’re good at making assumptions about people,” Kelly said. “You might want to quit that if you decide to become a shrink.” And with that, he shut the door on me.

I stared at the brass number.

“Bye, Kelly.”

When I reached my car, I glanced back at his house. There he was, silhouetted in the living room window, watching. Well, he could just keep on watching, maybe regretting how he’d handled that conversation as my taillights turned the corner, never to brighten this block again.

But I was wrong. The second my engine started, he disappeared. He’d only been waiting to make sure I wasn’t carjacked or something, a taste of that hyper-protectiveness that drove me to simultaneous sighs of exasperation and swoon. I shook my head, disgusted that I’d jumped to the most self-flattering and unlikely diagnosis.

So, no. I probably wouldn’t make that great a shrink.





Chapter Fifteen


The worst thing about my non-breakup with Kelly was working with him the next day.

And not because he glared at me or ignored me or undermined my duties. It was because he treated me exactly how he always did.

Cool and professional. No sign I’d hurt him. No sign he cared what had happened. No sign that we’d ever been anything to each other besides colleagues, and that transformed my dread and embarrassment to pure regret. It was a splinter in my heart, a sharp, ragged pain that pierced me anew with every beat.

These past couple of weeks, I’d scaled Kelly’s massive wall and peeked at what lay beyond. But I’d made myself too comfortable, and he’d tossed me back out, stacked his defenses thicker and taller and coiled it with a halo of concertina wire. Offering nothing but a cold gray shadow, long as a Starling shift.

At lunch I sat with Lee Paleckas, and my mood wasn’t lost on him. I’d been short with everyone all morning—not testy, but curt and monosyllabic.

“What’s up your ass?”

I looked up from my macaroni and cheese and offered a sardonic smile.

“PMS?” Lee asked, no trace of sexual mischief in his tone.

“Can’t I just have an off day?”

“I guess. Seems unfair, though, how if one us inmates has one, we get jabbed in the ass and sent to bed early.”

I rolled my eyes. “If we sedated people just for being grumpy, you’d be in a perpetual coma, Lee.”

He laughed at that—one of the rare, high wheezing sounds I’d begun collecting like merit badges. Getting Lee to laugh put a gold star on my day. Though today I’d need more than that to feel much aside from miserable.