Craving The Player (Amateurs In Love Book 1)(69)
“Cole took an immediate interest in me, and I was so excited about the fancy office and client opportunities that I became naive. I didn’t realize that being so appreciative towards him would be taken as something that it wasn’t.”
“Don’t blame yourself for the actions of a man who has tried to use his power to take advantage of you. No woman, especially one as intelligent as yourself, should need to bow to the feet of a man just to feel like a person. It’s incredibly revolting to me that you have had to worry about a smile being taken as something more than you intended it to, and that showing appreciation for being treated like a decent human being at work could lead to you owing somebody something. It’s not fair, baby, and I’m so fucking sorry that you’ve been dealing with that.”
She’s silent for a few seconds, but the arm laying across my chest tightens. “They want me to move across the country.”
“Across the country?” I mutter. Fear spears my insides before collaring my throat, squeezing and squeezing and squeezing.
“The promotion is for a job in Toronto. The company is expanding. I would be going with a small team.”
The hand I have on her waist slacks, falling to the bed as my muscles coil, like they want me to jump from the bed and run. But my limbs are too heavy. The thought of leaving right now and not knowing if she’ll be here when I get back makes me gnash my teeth together.
The weight of her admission falls heavier than it would have had my father not been leaving too. Toronto, Toronto, Toronto. Everything is about fucking Toronto. What a coincidence.
I feel betrayed, even though I have no right to feel this way. There’s something much deeper, more unforgiving that flares under my skin and sizzles in my veins, boiling my blood. Abandonment. A feeling that I buried a long time ago, back when my parents decided that I wasn’t enough to heal the broken bridge between them. A feeling that severed my relationship with my mother for years, and still crackles in the air when a disagreement gets a bit too loud and out of hand.
A young boy can’t even begin to understand how fractured and broken a marriage has to be for vows to be broken and a single piece of paper to be signed. All of the shouting and the screaming doesn’t make sense. The countless nights spent at a house that’s not his, just so that he can escape the angry voices don’t, make, sense.
All it takes is for those memories to come swinging back for me to roll out from under Sierra and sit on the edge of the bed, my back to her. “Toronto is shit,” is my only reply. The words are rough and emotionless.
“Wow, thank you for your helpful input.” I can hear her moving around on the bed. “I don’t know why you bothered asking if you were just going to be a dick about it.”
“Give me a break.” I laugh humourlessly, the sound far angrier than I expected. “What do you want me to say? Break a leg? Enjoy the weather?”
She inhales sharply before I hear her feet hit the ground and begin stomping around the floor. “I don’t know what your deal is, Braden. You asked and I answered. You’re being ridiculous.”
“When are you going?” I grind out, staring at my bedroom door as I debate storming out like a child.
“A few weeks maybe. I never really stayed around to listen to the fine details, in case you forgot.”
The only words that register in my mind are the first three.
A few weeks. A few fucking weeks.
That’s all I have left.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
BRADEN
I wasn’t surprised to find Sierra gone when I woke up this morning. Shit, I was surprised that she stayed the night at all after the way we ended our conversation. I was spiteful and she didn’t deserve my harsh comments. So when I said I was going to sleep on the couch, she didn’t fight me on it. I was too grateful that she was even bothering to stay to try to push my luck of sleeping in the same bed as me. But just because I wasn’t surprised that she had snuck out in the middle of the night—no note or anything—doesn’t mean that I’m not disappointed. Running away from our problems isn't going to work for me. Not anymore.
I slide my phone back into the pocket of my jeans and wait anxiously for the elevator doors to open. It's uncomfortable being stuck in such a tight space with a bunch of pricks wearing expensive suits, everyone pretending to listen to the lame elevator music to avoid awkward conversation. But that doesn’t matter. I’m here for Sierra, not to make small talk with a bunch of businessmen.
A sigh of relief pushes past my lips when the metal doors slide open with a brief ding. The space is somewhat familiar, but not enough that I know where I need to be going. I was too busy searching for Sierra yesterday to really take much else in.
I do remember how the white tile flooring sparkled from the sun’s reflection through the tall windows, the potent smell of coffee that reminded me of being stuck inside of a Starbucks, and how out of place I felt wearing sweaty gym clothes in such a professional building. But come to think of it, it probably wasn’t my choice of attire that had me feeling so out of place.
It was quieter yesterday, not a lot of chatter or shoes clapping on the tile like there is now. But I tune it out, knowing that if I let myself start thinking about anything other than seeing Sierra, my first stop would be Cole Travis’ office.