Exodus (The Ravenhood #2)(97)
We face off just feet apart, and I know he sees the resignation in my face. “Just go home, Cecelia.” He ducks into his car, slamming his door before he speeds off.
I lift from the duvet covered in sweat, my limbs aching as an agonized cry leaves my lips. I’d chased Sean through the trees all night, begging him to stop, but he just kept running, and he refused to look back.
“Damnit!” I hurl my water bottle across my room, and it smacks the wall before landing on the carpet just in front of my moonlit French door, the remaining water steadily leaking out.
It’s my subconscious I’m constantly battling. Waking hours are far easier, but every night or every other, in some way, I grieve one or all of them.
And it’s pathetic because they’re almost always dreams of rejection.
I beg, I plead with them not to leave me, to love me back, to forgive me. Just for once in these dreams, I want to be angry, to tell then that they’re liars, that they never deserved me, or my loyalty, my devotion, my ever-faithful heart. Still, it’s always them I’m chasing after, begging their forgiveness, begging for absolution, begging for my feelings to be returned.
Even with the strength I display on the outside during my waking hours bringing grown men to their knees in my business dealings, in my dreams, I’m forever weak. And my mind won’t relent in making me remember that, it won’t reason its way back into the truth of today, not yesterday. Unable to keep the effects from trickling in, I dial the number and pray she picks up.
“Talk to me,” Christy says in a sleepy voice.
“I’m only getting worse. This place is only making it worse.”
“I’m here.”
“I’m sorry,” I sigh, eyeing the clock. “I know it’s late.”
“I have a baby sucking on my boob, and I’m watching Insta Videos, trust me, I’m not mad.”
“Kiss him for me.”
“I will.”
We sit silently for a few seconds. She’s waiting.
“I’m such an idiot. Everyone has moved on.”
“I’m your best friend, and I’m telling you that you went robotic the minute you got back from that godforsaken place. You haven’t been the same since that year. And I’m not saying I don’t love you and all your malfunctions, but I see your face when you think no one is watching. You had three boyfriends who screwed with your head and your heart, one of which died in a car accident, and you never got to grieve him properly.”
Guilt gnaws at me, but the secrets I have to keep.
“Can I ask you something, Cee?”
“Stupid question. Of course.”
“Did you get pregnant?”
“What? No. Not at all. Nothing like that.” I’m weak. I can’t talk to her this weak. I’ve been holding my secrets with me safely for too long. “It was just another bad dream. I’ll be fine.”
“Look. Eventually, I’m going to run out of kids to steal my sleep and suck my tits into something scary, which means murder for you someday when you wake me in the middle of the night. I want you to be happy. If that doesn’t include a future with Collin, fine, if it’s going back to the scene of the shitshow to make peace, fine, but make sure it’s for you, Cecelia. You’ve suffered enough at those bastards’ hands.”
“I will.”
“Good. Remember why you left.”
“Trust me. I can’t forget it.”
“And don’t forget who the fuck you are. CEO and all-around badass. You make grown men cry every day.”
“Thank you. I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I manage to get through three-quarters of my presentation, and I can feel his heavy stare on me. It’s our first morning meeting. Tobias has already fired everyone on the board. Together, we have the task of turning the plant from a corporation structure to employee-owned. I won’t bother to ask him what he’s doing with the other plants, because I’m sure once he sees my plans for this one, maybe he’ll make similar changes to the others. Ryan sits at the table along with one of Tobias’s assistants, Shelly, as I go through the presentation—I worked half the night on—a step by step plan specific to the Horner Tech to right the wrongs of the past. It will give the faithful workers incentives along with better healthcare and retirement options. “Their lives won’t change overnight, but oh, what a difference a year can make.”
I pause after voicing that thought aloud, feeling the full weight of the attention of a man I was sure only existed in my dreams.
“Cee?” Ryan asks as I stand there, completely wrapped up in the memory of a warm summer night filled with toe-curling kisses, wine, of lightning bugs, of a magical place we created where no one else existed, and we recognized each other.
“Cee?” Ryan prompts again as I try to find my place.
“Sorry,” I clear my throat, feeling fire lick the side of my face and down my neck. I haven’t spared Tobias a glance, but the entirety of the outdated boardroom has been crackling with energy since he entered it.
“Within the next year,” I continue, “not only will we have given the employees incentives to stay, but we’ll have created and budgeted for twelve new supervising positions.”