Chapter 30
Tracy
“Congratulations! I’m so excited for you both!”
Abigail pulls me in for a hug. “Thank you so much. For everything. We couldn’t have done this without you.”
I squeeze her back, then pull away and offer Jason a hug as well. He claps me on the back like we’re bros celebrating a sports win and not like we just closed on their new house.
“If you need recommendations or anything, let us know. We’d be happy to give one,” Abigail offers as I hand her the keys to their house.
“I’ll put a word in for you with my company,” Jason adds on. “We’ve got a few people we’ll be moving out here, so I’ll try to nudge them in your direction.”
“Thank you,” I tell them, my heart warming at their generosity. “That would mean a lot.”
Jason winks at me. “Had Blake not said anything, we never would have guessed you had no clue what you were doing.”
“Hey,” I protest. “Just because you were my first clients, doesn’t mean I didn’t know what I was doing.” Okay, yes it does. I had zero idea what I was doing half the time, and I relied heavily on Craig, but we made it to closing, and by all accounts, everything went smoothly.
Abigail punches him in the arm. “Be nice,” she scolds. Then to me, says, “You were amazing, and we’ll tell everyone we know that they should use you when they buy or sell.”
“Thank you guys, again,” I tell them sincerely. “I couldn’t have asked for better first clients.”
When they finally leave the conference room, I sink into one of the chairs, dreading what comes next.
Today should be an exciting day for me. I should be celebrating closing my first clients. But instead, it’s the day that I finally sever ties with this place and with Blake.
This is my first trip to the office since that day two weeks ago when he bent me over his desk and tore a hole into my heart. I haven’t seen or talked to him at all since then.
That hasn’t stopped him from trying, though. As of this morning, I have 157 missed calls from him, ninety-eight voicemails, and 361 texts. None of which I’ve read.
I was afraid he’d break into my apartment again, so I had management change the locks on my door, too. There were several nights where I swear I heard someone fiddling with my front door, but every time I went and looked through the peephole, no one was there.
Lucas’ offer to join him at Michael Clark’s brokerage floated through my mind more frequently than not, and after talking to him and Michael, I decided going there was the best option for both my career and my sanity.
Except now comes the hard part.
Anxiety pools in my gut as I grab my things and head down the hallway to Whitney’s desk. I find her hunched over a stack of papers, swearing up a storm.
I clear my throat, and she peeks up at me. “Oh, hey stranger. Was wondering when you’d show your face again.” She holds up the stack of papers she was looking at. “Fucking Lucas. Can you believe he’s actually trying to sue us for lost commission? The snake.”
Yes, I can believe it, because he told me last time I talked to him that he was going to sue Blake. Apparently, Blake took all of his clients from him, then fired him without any explanation. Just further evidence that this place—that Blake—is not right for me.
Clasping my hands together in front of me to hide the shaking of my fingers, I offer her a small smile and ask, “Can you get my license ready to send back? I’m going to transfer to another brokerage.”
She drops the stack of papers onto her desk with a thud. “Yeah, no. That’s not happening.”
“I wasn’t asking,” I say, putting as much firmness into my voice as I can. “I’m having the transfer paperwork sent in next week.”
Whitney leans back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. “Does Blake know?”
“Does it matter?”
She sighs. “Tell you what, you come out for drinks with me tonight and I’ll send your license back to the state first thing Monday morning.”
“I don’t think that’s—”
“Then I’m holding your license hostage.” She shrugs, like she isn’t blackmailing me into going out with her just so I can quit working here.
“You can’t do that,” I tell her with as much confidence as possible.
She sits up and goes back to thumbing through the papers in front of her. “Watch me.”
“Whitney, please.” This is already hard enough without her push back. I adore Whitney—so much. And I don’t want to leave her, but I can’t stay here.
“Drinks, Tracy. You. Me. Tonight. Connor’s Corner Pub.” She smirks at me. “And maybe dress a little more casual this time.”
“Will Blake be there?” I ask, because there is no way I’m showing up if he is.
“No.”
“Why do I feel like you’re lying?”
She smiles up at me, the picture of innocence, and extends her hand over her computer, pinky out. “Pinky promise.”
“Ugh, fine.” I hook my pinky through hers. “One drink.”
Whitney said to dress more casually this time, but I’m going full bum mode: flip-flops, running shorts, a t-shirt, no makeup, and my hair in a ponytail.
Normally, I wouldn’t be caught dead in a bar dressed like this, no matter how casual it is, but I just don’t have the energy for anything else tonight.
My stomach has been in knots all day over my decision to leave, and my mind whirls with doubt.
Is this the best decision for me? Am I ruining my career before it’s even started by jumping ship so fast? Will Blake even let me go?
My heart, on the other hand, has worried that Blake will let me go.
I hate him. I hate him so much right now.
And still, my stupid heart doesn’t want him to let me go.
Because if he does, it just confirms what he’s already said—that I’m really nothing to him.
That even though he’s attracted to me, and even though he wants to fuck me, at the end of the day, I mean nothing.
I don’t know how the lines between us got so blurred. How we went from playing games with each other to wanting to hurt each other.
And I don’t know why I want his hurt. Not the cruel words or animosity, but his hands on my body, his mouth whispering dirty words and threats of punishment in my ear.
I want his palm reddening my flesh and his promise of pain.
I want to fight him. I want to run from him just so he’ll chase me.
I want him to catch me and make me pay. I want to be his dirty little whore.
My heart just can’t handle it when I’m also the focus of his hatred.
The same bouncer as last time greets me when I get to the pub and he waives me in, not bothering with an ID check this time. The stale smell of beer and the dim lighting greet me as I spot Whitney in the same booth, Connor dropping off a couple beers at her table.
“Hey, girl,” she says when I slide in across from her. “Sooo, first, I just wanted to say that I’m totally on your side, and I hope you don’t hate me, but I gotta go.” She slides out of the booth just as Blake appears and blocks me in on my side.
“Whitney,” I hiss, my fists clenching under the table. “You frickin’ pinky promised!”
“I know, I know.” She backs away. “But I’m a liar. And an asshole. It runs in the family.” She gestures toward Blake as though proving her point. “See you two Monday. Love you both. Byeeee.”
Whitney damn near runs out of the bar like the place is on fire and leaves me trapped in this booth with a pissed off Blake staring down at me, his hands in his pockets and his jaw clenched. His black tee and dark jeans just add to the overall wicked aura he’s giving off.
That urge to grab the salt shaker and pour it into his eyes resurfaces, and this time, I might just be psycho enough to do it.
I don’t know why he’s looking at me like I’m the one who did something wrong.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he states, his voice low.
“Your observational skills are really astounding.” I grab my purse, forgoing the salt again, and scoot to the end of the booth. “Too bad you’re not taking the hint.”
I brush past him, heading for the door and out to the alleyway. The bouncer doesn’t even look up as I leave, and when I step through the door, footsteps follow right behind.
“Leave me alone, Blake.”
He grabs my arm, his fingers digging into my flesh as he pushes me up against the wall. The brick digs into my spine and he presses his body into me, his thigh coming between my legs.
“I can’t.” His voice comes out strained. “As much as I want to, I can’t fucking leave you alone.”
I push at his chest, and he grabs my wrists, holding them over my head.
“Well, then, let me make it easier for you.” I wiggle against him, and he pushes his hips into mine, holding me still. “Come Monday, I’ll be transferring to another brokerage, and you won’t ever see me again.”
“Not happening,” he says, his voice hard and leaving no room for argument. “You’re not going anywhere.”
I tug uselessly at my arms, trying to free myself. “Well, I’m not staying.”
He lets go of my wrists and cradles my face, his rough hands warm against my skin. “Give me one night to change your mind,” he says, those gorgeous green eyes searing into mine. “Give me one night to make things right.”
My shoulders sag. I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of the back and forth with him. “If this is another game—”
“It’s not. Come to my place.”
Half of me wants to. Half of me wants to give in so badly, even while the other half knows it will only result in more pain. More pain that I don’t think I can handle.
I push on his shoulders, and he backs up, giving me some space.
That’s when I bolt.
Adrenaline courses through my veins as I run down the alleyway and onto the street, my flip-flops clacking against the brick sidewalks as I go.
Hanging a left, I brush past the night crowd, weaving between bodies as I run.
I’m not very familiar with this area, and the last thing I want is to find myself in a sketchy spot, so I stick to the main streets as I try to put distance between myself and Blake.
Risking a peek over my shoulder, I slow when I don’t see him in pursuit. My breathing is heavy, my heart pounding fiercely against my ribs from the run.
Maybe he gave up. Maybe he didn’t want to risk following after me and looking like a serial killer in pursuit of his next victim.
Confident that I lost him, I round the corner of a building and collide with a solid wall.
Blake.