Page 45 of Off-Limits Bad Boy
No, she didn’t.
“Sure.” I take a sip of coffee, scalding my tongue into a tasteless oblivion. I don't owe her explanations or comfort, but still, her sorrow leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
“Take care of yourself, Stella.” I keep my eyes on the black liquid, avoiding the pull of her gaze. Maybe this time she’ll take the hint and actually leave.
“I always do,” she replies, bringing back memories of her when she was younger. But her smile is dimmer now, as if life has beaten the joy out of her. I feel for her, but not enough to risk everything I hold dear.
But she’s still there, as if searching for the magical words that’ll turn the tides in her favor.
I glance at her, and her eyes search mine for something I can't give. Some part of me wonders if she remembers what she did so long ago. How she left me high and dry to be with someone else. To marry another man. She chose another path, one that didn't include me. And that’s fine, but it’s not fair of her to show up and act as if I’m cruel for refusing to try again.
“I'm sorry things didn't work out,” I say, unsure what else to tell her.
“Can I just...” She trails off and opens her arms wide, silently asking me for comfort, to hold her. The sight tugs at something deep within me, probably pity.
It's just a hug. What’s the harm in giving her a hug? I step forward and she winds her arms around me as I awkwardly pat her shoulder. Her body trembles against mine.
“Hey, it's going to be okay,” I whisper, my voice steady and calming. “You'll find someone who's right for you.”
“You really think so?” Her voice is muffled, hopeful and broken down all at once.
“Yes, I do.” I can't predict her future any more than I can rewrite our past, but I do think there’s someone for everyone. And right now, she needs to believe that.
She nods against my chest, taking deep breaths as if pulling herself together. When she steps back, her blue eyes are red-rimmed, and shimmer with tears, but her face is dry. “Thank you, Kade.”
“Of course.” This is the last comfort I can offer her.
She turns, to leave, but hesitates in the doorway and turns back to me. “I just wanted you to know, you were always...” She doesn't finish, leaving the sentence and the history between us hanging in the air.
But still, she continues to hesitate, her fingers brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I'll be in town for a while... another week or two. In case you change your mind,” she says, “I'm at the Grand, room 306.”
“I won’t,” I say, not even bothering to mask my disinterest.
But something flashes in her eyes, an expression of I'm not so sure about that that makes me uneasy.
“Take care, okay?” I say, not wishing anything other than good things on her. We both deserve a clean break.
She nods, her throat flexing as she swallows hard. “You, too.” She gives a small smile, then slips out the door, closing it softly behind her.
The silence after she leaves is relaxing and I lean against the counter, lost in thought as I bring my coffee to my lips again.
But Stella isn’t on my mind - Emma is. Her sweet smile, the taste of her, how her body responded to me... she’s etched into my mind in a way that I can’t escape, not that I’d want to.
She somehow balanced fire and innocence, boldness and desire, and I want her again just remembering our encounter. My heart does a little dance behind my ribs as my mind replays the way her eyes looked into mine, full of trust and something deeper.
I exhale, giving my head a slow shake as I think about how incredibly amazing she is, and how much I want to relive that experience with her... if she’s willing. “Damn,” I whisper to the empty room. The steam rising from my mug vanishes with my breath, then begins to curl up in little tendrils once more.
Emma is the kind of trouble I don't mind chasing.
The vibration of my phone pulls me from the haze of memories of Emma. I reach into my pocket and pull out the device, my heart kicking with a wild hope it's her name lighting up the screen. It's not—it's just a calendar alert, glaring at me—a meeting reminder, plain and impersonal.
“Focus,” I say to myself, thumb swiping the reminder away.
Reality is waiting, with all its prickly edges and unpleasant implications. The whole day and the upcoming meeting have an uncomfortable edge to them, like a shirt with stitching made of wire. I don’t want to be in the middle of this situation with Emma and Alex. A situation Emma doesn't even know about because Alex demanded I keep this secret from her.
He just wants to protect her. But I remember how well that worked out last time with the security system. The more I learn about her, the more I wonder if he knows her at all. Because he somehow manages to make everything more difficult with her.
I’m grateful Alex trusts me with his club, but sometimes I think he forgets this is his sister’s club, too. The decisions aren’t all his to make - she should be part of the decisions, even the unsavory ones.