After We Fall (Take the Fall, #3)(22)

“You don’t have to hold the door for me,” Evangeline says, and I turn. She’s sitting on the bottom step.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

She bows her head, exposing the slender lines of her neck. “Not yet, but I’m getting there.”

“You’ll get there. If my mom could, then anyone can,” I say.

Jerking around, she stares at me, her lips parted. “Your mom?”

“Yeah,” I say gruffly. “She’s part of the reason why I became a cop.”

“Was she like me?”

I know what she’s asking, but I need her to come to the park tomorrow. I’m almost one hundred percent certain that if I spill all my secrets to her now, she won’t bother. Yeah, it’s selfish of me, but I don’t give a damn.

Yet, I can’t play head games with her, either.

“A little.”

Her gaze runs over me. “Night, Hunter.”

Without replying, I let the door shut behind me and jog up the stairs. It’s all I can do to keep my focus off her. I scratch behind one of Jake’s ears. “Good boy.”

As I stride down the hallway, Jake trots alongside me. On the one hand I feel like this afternoon with Evangeline was a step in the right direction, but on the other, her reaction to being grabbed by me, even to keep her from getting hurt, felt like a million steps back. None of it is her fault, and that’s not something I’m struggling with.

What I am struggling with—this driving desire to have her in my life.





Chapter 8


Evangeline


I avoid the dog park, and basically the entire park in general, for the next week. Working at the animal shelter helps keep me busy and my mind off things. Him. Well, mostly, but I haven’t been on any walks this week, either. Call me a coward, but I don’t care.

Besides, I’m not afraid of Hunter.

Actually, I’m terrified by my reaction to him, by how disturbingly nice it was to be held like that. For a man’s hand to protect instead of hurt. A strong arm to prevent me from falling instead of holding me down.

Who am I kidding? Being held by Hunter was more than nice, more than great…quite simply it was exquisite. For a brief moment, I felt normal, safe, and protected. For a brief moment, I was a woman being held by a man.

Until I wasn’t. Until all I could feel was Penn’s hand, Penn’s arm keeping me prisoner while he corrected my behavior, my forgetfulness…or my breathing too loudly.

Memories threaten to rise, but I swallow them down, along with another glass of wine.

“Yoga pants, wine, and Sweet Home Alabama on Netflix. What more could a girl ask for?” I mutter before grabbing a handful of chocolate-covered almonds and scarfing them down.

Today the rest of the furniture I ordered was delivered and assembled. No more sleeping on an air mattress. No more eating over the kitchen sink. No more sitting in a beanbag chair to watch television. Now I’m the proud owner of a sofa, loveseat, bed, kitchen table and chairs, along with end tables. Best of all, I picked out everything myself without anyone else’s input.

Adulting is fun!

There’s a loud crash and I start. The familiar beeping sound of a large truck backing up reminds me that it’s trash day. Slumping deeper into the cushions, I shove more chocolate-covered almonds into my mouth.

Adulting sucks when you’re a single woman without a…crew, entourage? Squad? I can’t keep up with the latest term for “group of friends.” I don’t even have enough friends to form a triangle.

Gah. I’m lame.

Yet, I’m dying for them. Worse, I admitted it to Hunter, of all people, and practically begged him to be one. I hate the way Penn made me resent being vulnerable. I hate the way I’m scared of opening up to people, of letting them in and attempting to have a life.

Most of all, I hate not knowing who I am now.

Placing my wineglass down on a coaster on the coffee table, I pick up the remote and turn off the television. It’s really hard to get into second-chances-at-love stories when I have no desire to ever get back together with mine.

My sister is a famous romantic suspense writer. Her books have been made into movies, and she’s even married to an honest-to-goodness movie star. Best of all, he loves her, worships the ground she walks on, and basically will move heaven and earth to make her happy. Don’t get me started on my brothers—all four of them. Each one is married to the love of their life. Not only that, they’re protective of them. Respectful. Encouraging. All the things I assumed I was getting with Penn.

Now I know better. I know that’s the kind of love I won’t ever find—if I ever want to attempt to find it again.

Besides, my standards are simultaneously high and low, which makes them unattainable. High—the guy will be utter perfection. Low—doesn’t hit or call me nasty names.

In other words, I want a man who doesn’t exist.

—

Monday morning shows up without my permission, but another day spent at the animal shelter is another day without completely feeling like a loser.

“You’re doing a good job here,” Saylor says as we walk to the parking lot. “But you don’t seem very happy today.”

“I’m not very happy today, but it has nothing to do with work,” I mutter, glancing at her.