Chapter 63. Brynn
brYNN
The agency’s vibe feels off when I arrive Monday morning.
Eunice’s perch looms vacant, her multi-line phone and computer gone.
Landlines and personal cells ring all over the place.
Josie huddles with Lucius by the employee coffee machine, both with a Starbucks in their hands. No one greets me when I pass.
I drop my purse in its usual drawer in the filing cabinet next to my workspace and head down the hall to find Meredith or that Benji guy I still haven’t met. I hear crying and pivot around. Priya’s in the conference room; Donovan’s by her side, his hand on her back. They must have had a fight.
He gives me a wicked smile and mouths, You’re next.
Uh-oh.
“Kershaw McKenzie is being absorbed by Day I feel the edge of a blade pierce my back. Was it Donovan, Scott? Who doesn’t have it out for me here? I suck in air.
The guy types away on his computer like his sword isn’t covered in my blood too. This can’t be happening. I have to stop this.
“Um.” My voice sounds raspy and strange. “Can I interview with Day when no response comes, he gets up to leave.
The door shuts. My pulse drums in my ears. I grasp the edge of my seat.
“You okay?”
My arms break out in goose bumps. I clench my jaw, my head swimming. Is he here to gloat?
No. Stop that. He’s out of a job too. His family’s reign is over.
My knees start bouncing. I hold them still. “Did you know?” I bow my head and close my eyes.
“I learned a couple of days ago.”
“I’m sorry for your family.” A gasp-sob slips out of my throat. “What am I going to do? It could be months before I find another job. I’m going to lose my parents’ apartment . . . where am I going to go?”
His long silence turns me around. I’m dazed for a few seconds by the healthy glow on his face; he looks like he’s just returned from the Bahamas. What the hell?
“Wait here.” His gentle voice triggers a memory of us lying in bed together. “I’ll get your bag so you don’t have to see anyone. Filing cabinet, bottom drawer, right?”
Two minutes later, Micah and I breeze past clusters of coworkers standing about. Some are red-eyed and teary; a few just look dazed. I see Zoe hooting and hollering across the room, but no one else from my team.
“Where are you two running off to?” Donovan’s voice rises from out of nowhere.
Conversations drop, heads swivel.
My face grows hot. I clutch my purse in front of me. So much for sneaking out.
Micah holds open one of the glass doors in the lobby. The same one I smacked my face into on my first day here. He frowns and gazes at Eunice’s empty curved desk, his eyes pinched.
I glance back at the agency one final time—those funny lightbulbs hanging from pipes in the center, the melting rocket on the wall behind reception, its cone-shaped head and fiery dog bone base never ceasing my mind from going there.
Still. Something pulls inside my chest. My summer at Kershaw McKenzie. My first real job. Meeting Micah.
“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” Donovan snickers as he catches up with us.
I clench my fists, glaring.
Micah steps beside me. “Sorry about your mom, Donovan.” His voice is kind.
I do a double take.
“Now you can spend some time with her before you start at Day I know I’m the one to blame for not giving us a chance, for believing the worst—that dating Micah would cost me my job. And look, they fired me anyway. I stab the lobby button with my thumb.
We stare at one another; the doors begin to close.
My breath snags. I may never see him again.
He takes a step, then another—he rushes toward me, cupping my face, tilting my mouth up to his.
The elevator doors seal us in together. Where it all began.
Our lips part, hungry for one another. Our tongues fall in step like no time has passed. I moan, relishing the sparks running from the tip of my nose, through my belly, and down between my thighs.
Micah slides me to the back of the elevator, rocking his hips forward and pinning my wrists over my head.
I arch my back, pressing my chest into him, greedy for more.
The floor drops.
My knees buckle.
We fall faster. Clinging to one another.
I crack open my eyes, watching him devour me.
His hands release me and squeeze my hips.
I breathe in his warm scent, like fresh-cut wood. My fingers slip into his hair.
His tongue draws a wet line down my neck.
A bell sounds and the elevator clunks to a halt.
I look past his shoulder at the three-person-deep crowd in the lobby—some with mouths agape, some looking pissed, one couple very clearly amused.
Micah picks me up by my waist like he’s twirling me on the dance floor and carries me over the threshold.
The crowd parts as my feet touch the ground.