Page 121 of The Quit List
My kayaking fail.
Dylan, that night at the club.
My ankle on the trail.
Showing up last night when I missed him.
This man has done nothing but take care of me since I met him. And of course I’m grateful beyond belief.
But who’s taking care of Jax?
That small voice in my head repeats the same question I asked myself last night.
I saw the stricken look on his face as Dylan let his verbal assault fly, and I am furious that he then sent me inside so I couldn’t have another moment with Jax before he left. Now, all I want is to assure him that everything my boss said was a lie. Dead wrong.
Come to think of it, I’m also furious with myself for listening to Dylan and actually going inside.
One minute late. Please. I’ve worked countless extra hours, gone above and beyond for years, yet here he is, griping at me over sixty seconds.
In a fit of defiance, I set my bag down on the reception counter and slip my phone out of the side pocket, fully intent on sending Jax a message to let him know that Dylan was totally out of line and clearly a little insane.
Unfortunately, the voice that used to give me heart palpitations interrupts me.
“I hope you had a very nice vacation, Holly,” Dylan says in a way that suggests he hopes I had the opposite.
“The best,” I tell him, opening my text thread with Jax.
“Back to reality now, so time to turn your devices off.” He looks smug as a Cheshire Cat as he waltzes behind the reception desk, where I’m hovering, and grabs my phone right out of my hand. He then turns it off and tosses it back in my purse. He shakes his head, affecting his most businesslike voice. “Tsk tsk… texting at work. What has gotten into you? Now, please help Mrs. Shanahan over there with whatever she needs.”
One of our regulars is, indeed, walking across the lobby towards us.
“Okay, Dylan,” I respond as calmly as I can, resisting a deep urge to say aye-aye captain and give him a sarcastic salute. I paste on my best professional smile instead, but Mrs. Shanahan simply gives me a wave as she passes the reception desk on her way to our games room.
“He’s in fine form today,” Raquel whispers as Dylan’s office door slams behind us.
I roll my eyes at my friend. “I’ll say.”
Because damn him telling me what to do.
And for taking my phone out of my hand like I’m in high school or something.
I really don’t know how I’ve been doing this every day. For years, I’ve been working for him. Hanging on to some pipe dream that I now realize I never actually wanted.
Truth is, as wonderful as the Pinnacle is, I don’t think I want to be here anymore. My heart isn’t in it—it’s three hours away, in a freaking log cabin with an outhouse.
And the fact that I’m not on my way there with Jax right now feels plain wrong. I have this sense in my gut, like I’m finally reading situations clearly. Or perhaps Peeping Tom the pervy ghost is haunting me.
Dylan’s office door creaks open again and I wince instinctively.
“Holly? Now that you’ve assisted Mrs. Shanahan… A word?”
I look around to see Dylan leaning out of his office door, crooking his pointer finger at me.
“Okay, boss.” I wearily get to my feet and grab my crutches. I have no idea what he wants as I follow him into his office, but I also don’t really care.
“Please, sit down.” He gestures to the chair opposite his desk and I sink into it. He doesn’t seem particularly pleased—I missed a week of work after my sprain, but I took unpaid leave for that.
“So-o,” he draws the syllable out as he steeples his fingers on his desk and rests his chin on them, peering at me. “Aside from that rocky start this morning, you know that I value you as an employee. And you may have noticed that Douglas hasn’t been around since you got back.”