CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
I stood outside the restaurant, waiting for Oliver to pay the bill.
I looked through the restaurant window and stifled a sigh.
He was talking to Angela, the youngest professor in his department.
They were feet from the payment desk, and she was inching her way closer to him.
I should probably put a stop to that. She might think I was marking my territory if I intervened, but she wouldn’t know I was secretly protecting her from the demon.
Yes, yes, I should do that.
Except my legs didn’t move.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t save everyone.
My will felt extinguished. The more I detached from my reality, the further away from pain I was.
It felt like I was finally getting it right.
I could continue to exist if I stopped feeling altogether.
Poor Angela, who was very aware she was standing too close to a married man, needed to figure shit out in the meantime.
I looked away and continued to wait on the curb beside the restaurant garden beds.
The streets were emptying out. It was close to eleven at night.
The underground parking lot was a block away, but it may as well have been on another planet.
I looked up at the sky, sad that I couldn’t catch the stars in the downtown area.
It would have been a lovely sight because the skies were clear, not a cloud in sight.
What if you just ran right here and now?
The voice came on suddenly. I stilled, frowning.
You can run. He’s in the restaurant—
I stared down the dimly lit street, feeding into the thought a little bit. I didn’t have money. Everything I’d managed to squirrel away was hidden in the laundry room—
Who cares? Just run and find a way out. Do it now and don’t look back.
My legs wobbled, the urge present. I let out a frustrated breath and shook my head. I couldn’t do that. Not in this dress. Not without two pennies to rub together. If I ran and he caught me, I would undo years of obedience. He could be testing me all over again.
“You look lost.”
The voice made me jump, like I’d been caught for having such daring thoughts. Cheeks flaming, I turned my head and found the singer from earlier sitting on the ledge of the garden bed.
Familiarity struck me so sharply that I forgot to breathe.
His guitar case was leaning against the garden bed wall beside him.
I looked him over quickly. He wore a plain white T-shirt and jeans—an ordinary outfit I hadn’t registered while he was singing.
His face was so handsome, rugged and boyish at the same time, that you didn’t pause to look at the rest of him.
Not when he had a voice like that, either.
But he wasn’t singing right now, and even though he dressed ordinarily and didn’t currently strum a guitar, his presence was anything but ordinary.
Oh, and his hands were huge.
I watched them as he dug one into his pocket and pulled out a lighter.
I thought about you all dinner.
I didn’t say that, but I wanted to.
“Not lost,” I said quietly, finally finding my voice. “Just…waiting.”
I felt his eyes on me, and I looked back to see his gaze running over me slowly. I balled my hands together, feeling suddenly conscious. He didn’t respond to that. Just stared at my figure quite thoroughly. It was sort of rude, but…he didn’t look like he was checking me out. Not at all.
It was more like he was being nosy.
Assessing me.
I wondered what he saw.
Oliver had made me wear his favorite dress.
It was deep blue with white floral designs.
There was some cleavage, but nothing too unladylike.
The hem ended several inches above my knees, and the fabric hugged my figure.
No conservative cut could hide my curves completely.
To finish it off, I had pearl earrings on and a short gold chain necklace with a thin gold butterfly pendant.
His perusal ended, and he looked down the street, his attention drifting elsewhere.
I could make small conversation or let him be.
The easiest choice would be to leave him be.
He wasn’t here for conversation, I could tell.
He was lost in whatever volatile thoughts made his expression flat and empty.
He didn’t even appear like he remembered me when he sang, which meant there had been nothing there and I’d made it up because I was crazy.
But then I thought of him singing that painful song and—
“I heard you,” I found myself saying before I could stop myself.
I swallowed when his eyes darted back to meet mine. He held my gaze easily, his eyes empty. When he didn’t speak again, I gave him a polite smile.
“You’re really good.”
He grunted once, uttering a hollow, “Thanks.”
“It was heartbreaking.” I should really shut up, but I kept thinking of the tormented look in his eyes as he sang that damn song. “What did she do to you?”
The question was sudden. I may as well have shot him the way his jaw tensed, the only indication I’d asked something I shouldn’t.
I winced immediately, shaking my head. “I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. It’s not my business.”
He didn’t reply for so long that I figured he was done with me.
I didn’t blame him. Groaning inwardly, I glanced once more at the restaurant.
Oliver had his arms crossed and was leaning against the counter like he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.
Angela was touching his arm, grinning as she listened to him talk.
I looked back at the street, extremely aware the man was only feet from me. I could just go into the restaurant, but I liked the heat in my body at his close proximity. My body didn’t want to listen to reason. I stood there for what felt like a solid minute.
“Do you mind?” he suddenly asked, redirecting my attention to him.
I felt a zap of satisfaction that he was talking to me. He had an unlit cigarette in his mouth and had raised the lighter at me in question.
“I do, actually,” I said, thinking briefly of the cancer that stole my mother. More importantly, I didn’t want Oliver’s favorite dress to smell like cigarette smoke and then to be lectured about it for hours like it was my fault.
He stilled, brows shooting up in surprise.
Then, to my own surprise, he lit his cigarette anyway.
My mouth fell open, and annoyance flared through me. “Wow,” I muttered.
“Bet you’re not used to that,” he returned, giving me a lopsided smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“Not used to people doing what they want even when they ask if it’s all right? Well, usually people are a lot more considerate.”
He snorted softly. “Yeah. People like to stay on your good side.”
“Why would anyone want to stay on my good side?”
He flicked his gaze over me, slow and unreadable. “Look at you.”
Even though I knew what he meant, I glanced down at myself. “What am I looking at specifically?”
“You’re…kept.”
That felt like a rough word. Not an insult, but not quite a compliment, either.
“I like to dress well.”
He took a drag, jaw flexing. “Men probably trip over themselves around you.”
“Do they?”
His angry eyes met mine. “You’re so beautiful, it fucking hurts looking at you.”
He definitely said that in an insulting way, but heat licked my skin. My cheeks burned, and my heart was racing. I no longer felt tired. Woken up by this man’s crazy words, I glanced quickly at Oliver once more before replying.
“You don’t know anything about me. Just because you’re sad and angry at the world because your heart got broken and you sing about it to anyone who will listen doesn’t mean you can pretend to have me figured out, either.”
He looked away from me first, the movement fast, like I’d physically slapped him with my words. I should have liked that, but I didn’t.
I took this moment to look him over. Broad-shouldered, his arms were thick, his biceps straining. I looked back at his hands, his fingers long, the nails clipped short and neat.
A sudden vision of his hands on my body swept through me. One hand twisted into my hair, the other spanning my breast as his mouth crushed mine—
He took one more drag, then abruptly crushed the cigarette against the garden bed wall.
If that was his way of apologizing, he didn’t confirm it with words, but his eyes swung my way again. My heart spiked as our eyes connected.
I looked away from him, bouncing from foot to foot now, aroused by the strange images firing through me.
I could practically taste his mouth, the thoughts were so vivid.
Despite my cloudy head, the air began to clear.
I could smell only the food from the restaurant and his mild cologne drifting my way.
I should have left him alone, but I was so hyperaware of this man, it actually hurt not to look at him. I didn’t recognize myself or understand why I was still standing there, hanging on to his presence and hoping for him to speak to me.
He wasn’t nice.
He wasn’t trying to be charming.
He was mean to me. Calling me pampered like he knew anything about me, but I hadn’t responded any better.
This was the strangest encounter I’d ever experienced, and I was enjoying every second of it.
Honestly, what the fuck?
“You can smoke,” I finally uttered, shrugging. “It’s a public space—”
“I was being a dick,” he cut in. “You got here first.”
“Well, thanks. I won’t be standing here for long.”
Then again, Oliver was now laughing, and so was Angela. They were having fun together. Good for them. Though she really needed rescuing, my legs didn’t budge.
“I don’t even like smoking,” he said next as he pocketed the lighter again.
He looked a little edgy, his eyes glancing toward me and then back down the street.
He worked his jaw, and I could feel his ugly thoughts.
I had a feeling this man was a loose cannon.
That he was at the mercy of those ugly thoughts and feelings.
It was another form of prison, and I knew it all too well.
My face gentled. I said softly, “We don’t always choose our addictions. Sometimes you make one mistake, and it chooses you.”