13. hayes
THIRTEEN
hayes
W hen Fallon rushes out, I stand. My patience wears thin as Jace casually strolls back to our table and takes a sip from his glass. He ordered a house drink full of vermouth. “What the fuck did you say to her, Jace?”
Jace swirls the drink around in his glass with a casual shrug. “I just warned her, Fitz. I said you love a challenge.”
I could kill him where he stands, but that would really wrench my plans. “You realize you could fuck this entire thing up for me, right? My father is relying on me to learn as much about her as possible.”
He sits and curls his arm around the back of Fallon’s empty chair. He’s acting like he doesn’t care, but I know him better than that. He’s allowing this years-long competition between us to affect something that could make a difference in my relationship with my father. “What do you want?” I’m willing to make it happen for him to keep quiet about this. “Do you want a position in the company?”
He finishes his drink and signals the server for another. He’s not rushing to reply because he knows I’m waiting for Fallon. “No, Fitz. I don’t give a fuck about working for your father. What I want is a little steeper than that.”
My mind immediately goes into overdrive, causing every nerve ending to stand on edge. Jace has always lusted after everything I have, but the only thing he doesn’t have so far is…
“Fallon,” he finishes. “You’re betting a lot on her, which means she must be worth more than a simple rundown of her store. You want to break her.” He stands and rests his hands on the back of his chair. “You think I don’t know you? I do. All the twisted games you play with the women in your life? Fallon isn’t like them, and you want to find out what makes her tick. I just want to be the one to pick up the pieces when you succeed in tearing her apart.”
My nostrils flare as I try to keep my temper in check. “Is that why you fucked Raquel, Jace? You can’t find a woman alone, so you are waiting for my discards?” I didn’t want to give Jace the satisfaction of knowing he hit a nerve when I learned about him and Raquel, but what he’s asking for is lower than anything I’ve had to put up with from him over the years.
He circles the table and grabs my shoulder, squeezing. I clench my fists. The last thing I need is to be escorted out of the lounge and have Fallon witness it if she’s still outside, but punching Jace almost seems worth it. “Just think of me as your cleanup crew, Fitz. Do we have a deal?”
I don’t care what it takes—Jace will never touch her. But I nod once to satisfy him and buy myself more time to see this plan through. “Yeah, asshole. Deal.”
* * *
I carry Fallon’s jacket outside. She left it on her chair in her rush to get away from Jace, and I doubt she’d get far without it before eventually circling back. She’s stubborn, but she’s not stupid. And that’s precisely what she’s doing when I find her. She’s practically stomping down the sidewalk, muttering something under her breath and twisting her hair through her fingers. He activated her anxiety, the returning tension evident in her shoulders.
“Looking for this?” I ask, holding her jacket out.
Her lips clamp shut as she looks up, but she doesn’t lunge quickly enough before I hold it up and out of her reach. “Come back inside, Fallon.”
“No,” she says through clenched teeth.
Since I’m not cruel, I put her jacket on her, even going as far as to zip it up to keep her from bolting. “Fine, we won’t go back in. I’ll take you home.”
She plants her finger against my chest. “I don’t want you to take me home. I can get there on my own.”
She only had one glass of wine, but I can tell she’s bordering on tipsy, and her frustration will only add to her delirium. She’s also exhausted. We’ve worked hard these last two days. I shouldn’t have brought her tonight, especially given the kind of mood Jace was in.
I grab her jacket pocket when she tries to turn away from me, tugging her back. “It’s freezing, Fallon. I’m not letting you walk home from here. Do you even know where we are?”
She folds her arms over her chest, defiant in how she holds her chin. “I’ve lived here for over a year. I think I can recognize street signs, Fitz.”
I release her. “Okay. Which direction is your apartment?”
She spins back and forth on her heels, gnawing on her bottom lip. Sure, maybe during the day, she could recognize where she is, but after a drink, I have my doubts at night. Fallon is hardheaded but also cold, so I’m curious to see how long she’ll hold out before she admits defeat.
I don’t know if it’s a nervous habit, but she starts braiding her hair, producing a band from her wrist to secure the end. “Fine,” she says after a couple minutes pass. “You can take me home, but only because I’m freezing.”
I hold out my arm for her to grab. “Understood.”
* * *
When we arrive at her building, Fallon bypasses the entrance to her apartment and instead wanders into the small grocery store connected to it. I’m unsure why I follow her inside, but I want to make sure she makes it twenty feet back to her apartment before I leave her for the evening.
It would make sense that she’s hungry. We left the lounge before our food was delivered to the table. I texted Jace before we left, letting him know that Fallon was tired and wanted to go home. He hasn’t responded, and I have no doubt that it’s because he’s annoyed he couldn’t further his agenda with her by flirting some more. Just the thought of him being near her sends me into a tailspin. He’s only interested in her because I’ve gotten close, and Jace always needs to prove to himself that he can have whatever I have.
But he won’t get Fallon.
As she walks down an aisle, she glances over her shoulder, unsurprised by me following her. In fact, she smiles and turns to walk backward. Her tired eyes are glazed, but she exudes energy I haven’t seen yet. “Are you hungry, Fitz?”
Fuck, I am. But not strictly for food.
In two steps, I’m close enough to her to spin the end of her braid around my finger. “Starved. Do you know what sounds good, Fallon?”
She licks her lips, her gaze dropping to mine only briefly. “Tell me,” she murmurs.
I lean in closer, step into her so she has to back up a small step, her hands fisting my shirt instinctively. I did that on purpose, of course. The fear of falling backward is guaranteed to get someone to latch onto you. We’re practically glued together in the middle of the spice aisle. Anyone walking past could mistake this moment as the one when I’m about to kiss her. But I know she wants it, so I must wait a little longer.
Instead, I tug slightly on her braid and whisper, “Sub sandwiches and chips. And beer.”
She threw her head back in the sweetest laugh, using her hold on my shirt to drag me down a different aisle. “Luckily for you, I’m a pro at making sandwiches.”
* * *
The inside of Fallon’s apartment is just how I imagined it’d be. Like the bookstore, it’s cozy. She has blankets and throws tossed over her couch and in a basket in the corner of her living room; her fireplace is decorated with books and trinkets that look like they came from thrift stores, and a table for two sits in the small nook connected to her kitchen. From already looking at her floor plan online, I know she only has one bedroom, which sits behind the living room, unlit.
She lights a vanilla-scented candle on her kitchen counter before removing the ingredients we chose from the bags I carried up. “Make yourself at home,” she says, gesturing toward her living room.
“There’s that southern charm,” I say, moving behind her to take two beers from the case instead.
She snorts, slicing the bread. “Missouri is considered a midwestern state, although some places, mostly those closest to Arkansas, might identify more southern, I guess.”
Good. She’s talking about it. “And which part of Missouri are you from? What do you identify as?”
I think it helps that she’s distracted with making the sandwiches. It doesn’t give her time to hesitate. “I haven’t given it much thought,” she replies, spreading mayonnaise. “I ramble like a midwesterner. I’ll talk to anyone about anything.”
I craft my questions carefully. “Did you go to school close to home?”
She nods while arranging tomato slices. “I lived in the same town as Mizzou. Tuition was cheaper for in-state students, so I lived at home while attending.”
That means she hasn’t been on her own for long. After putting the bottles on the counter next to her, I step behind her and slowly remove her jacket, causing her to stop what she’s doing to allow it. The tension between us is suffocating, especially when she leans just enough for the back of her head to brush against my chest. “Thank you,” she whispers.
It takes considerable effort to step away from her, but I walk to the other side of the counter to drape her jacket over a barstool, then add mine atop hers. “I’ve traveled a lot, but never to Missouri. Do you go home often?”
And then that look returns, where she disassociates and distances herself. “The store has done so well that I don’t have time for much else. I’m almost finished.”
My brow furrows. What did she leave behind that left her so shattered that she can’t talk about it? Did she have her heart broken? Did she leave a man behind? I don’t see any framed pictures around her apartment. Was there a falling out with her parents? I felt no tension when she brought up the story about her mom. It was one of the few times she seemed relaxed around me.
I decide not to push her anymore about it tonight. Instead, I return to her side and assist in plating the sandwiches and chips we chose, following her to the table. “Thank you for feeding me tonight,” I say, sitting across from her. “I apologize for Jace.”
She studies me while taking her first bite, waiting until she takes a sip of beer before she asks, “Why do you stay friends with him?”
I grin, purely because I’ve asked myself that question multiple times. “There’s a lot of history, and despite our recent history, Jace has been there during many difficult times. He was with me when I discovered one of my father’s affairs. We walked into the office and caught them in the act.”
Her eyes widen. “Fitz, I’m so sorry.”
I pop a chip into my mouth and shrug. “It is what it is. But he took me to get drunk afterward and never spoke of it again. Jace knows how to be a great friend. He just allows his ego to get the best of him sometimes.”
When Fallon’s cell phone rings, she rolls her eyes and stands, dusting her hands off. “That’s my ringtone for Thomas. Even though he has my location, he checks in every night. I think he’s afraid I’ll croak someday and be alone.”
Leaning back in the chair, I watch her move through the kitchen. “Well, you’re not alone tonight. I promise to report any dead bodies to him.”