King Hunt (Boys of Brisley 1)

Chapter One:

Just Keep Going

“We’re good here.”

Those words.

Those three little words; those heart-stopping, painful, drop-the-floor-out-from-under-me words. I’d have given anything to forget them, to erase them not just from my mind, but from all of existence.

“We’re good here.”

Like an icepick to the brain, those words.

“We’re good here.”

What a horrible, selfish, callous way to break up with someone. “We’re good here,” like the three years we’d shared had meant nothing. “We’re good here,” like ending our relationship was as easy for him as denying refills at a restaurant. “We’re good here,” like those three little terrible, gut-wrenching words wouldn’t break me.

But they did.

I thought after four years of separation, after crawling to my best friend’s house and begging her to take me in, after the sobbing and the raging and the way my heart disintegrated on the cold stone tiles in Kylie’s kitchen, that I’d be better. That it would be easier to see him, to watch him parade around town with the woman he’d left me for and the adorable, fat little dog we’d always talked about getting together.

I was wrong.

I could still hear those words, agonizing and much louder in my head than David had spoken them originally.

It happened every time I saw them. Getting coffee, or picking up my pencil skirt from the dry cleaners because I spilled something on it again and couldn’t get the stain out on my own. At the restaurant where I’d tried and failed to start dating again. At the movie theater, the grocery store. My fucking gynecologist’s office where I found myself privy to the news that they were expecting a child.

And now, at my own office, hearing the news that David Sorrin was my new boss.

Fate was a cruel, vindictive little bitch sometimes.

But that was life in a small, nothing town in a boring, nothing state. No places to hide, nowhere to go to get away from the people I didn’t want to see. And now that he was here in all of his giant, broad-shouldered, dark-haired and strong-jawed glory; I couldn’t look away. I didn’t want to look away. I’d drop my eyes and change course every time I’d see him in public with her, but here? Doing so would make me look weak, and I was anything but weak.

I donned the same poker face I’d had for four years — the one I’d crafted carefully to hide the hole in my chest that I was no longer convinced was metaphorical. I felt it, like a void threatening to spawn a hurricane, or a tide just waiting for the chance to drown me. That hole was there, and it was real, and its name was David Sorrin.

And David Sorrin had just taken one of the last safe places in all of Point Isly from me.

The moment the introductory meeting was over and we broke so my coworkers could greet him like some sort of celebrity, I snuck away to my cubicle. It was easy to ignore the shaking in my fingertips as I typed up a message to my immediate supervisor telling her that I needed to leave for the afternoon. Easy to ignore because... well, my whole body was shaking. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but run on autopilot as my flight response kicked into high gear.

I had to get out of there.

Twenty minutes later, I sat in my driveway wondering how I’d even managed to drive. I tried to remember the stop signs, the single red light, the turns I’d taken to get from work to here, but I couldn’t. I barely registered getting out of the car and fumbling with the keys to the already-unlocked front door, but the look on Kylie’s face as she saw me walk in?

That ... I’d remember forever.

Pity, concern, fear that I was about to have another mental breakdown ... fuck, I don’t need this right now. “Oh. You’re home,” I mumbled, brushing blond waves out of my face. “Sorry, I should’ve given you some warning.”

“No, you’re fine.” She eyed me like I was a bomb seconds from exploding, which didn’t seem like much of an exaggeration in the moment. “I think? Are you fine, Zeppelin?”

What a loaded fucking question.

“Depends on your definition of the word.” I set my crossbody bag down and headed straight for the wine, but reached past it for the Jack Daniels instead. “Just came back from a meeting where they announced our new C.O.O.,” I said quietly. “Best kept secret in the Point, I guess.”

“Don’t tell me it’s Paul,” she said, screwing up her face. “That guy sucks.”

“No. It’s not Paul. It’s—” I drank straight from the bottle when I couldn’t find a shot glass quick enough, then coughed from the burn — “Fucking fuck me. It’s David.” David, the man who ensured I’d never fall in love again. My once-in-a-lifetime love that dropped me on my ass and proved to me that I wasn’t the type to get a happy ending. “David Sorrin.”

That name had been taboo in this house for years, and her big brown eyes widened so much it was almost comical. “Are y— no way.” Disbelief washed over her as she made her way over and took a drink for herself. “Did you have to see him?”