Despite her words, she calms enough for me to put her down and take a step back.
She backs further away when I reach for her, words clogging my throat.
Her eyelids flutter, blinking rapidly, and I give her a little time to compose herself. I can tell she’s angry that her first reaction is to cry instead of raining hellfire down on me.
“Did you really not enjoy the sex?”
Her eyes narrow, the motion coming together to form indignation instead of a mixture of things. It gives her something to focus on.
“Get over yourself.”
“I don’t have erectile disfunction. I don’t need fucking medicine for my cock to get hard.” If I didn’t have a little decorum, I’d grip the steel pipe in my slacks to emphasize my point.
Fighting and arguing with her always heats me up like this, and she has to know it by now. Half the times she gave me trouble, I think she did it to rile me up. There were days she was so bratty, I worried about blood flow issues because I lived in a constant state of arousal.
“Why are you in St. Louis?” Please open your pretty mouth and tell me it’s because you couldn’t spend another second without me. “Where is Reginald?”
Her pretty green eyes narrow. “Checking up on me?”
I don’t have to answer because isn’t it obvious?
“The newspaper,” I say instead, running my hand over the top of my head. “I’m sorry it ended like that.”
I never set out to hurt her more. I knew walking away was going to be painful. Hell, it gutted me, but I had to remember her sleeping, her face angelic and relaxed, not crying and upset. If I had woken her to tell her what was going on, I would’ve been fucked. If she begged, I would’ve stayed. If she didn’t care, I don’t think I would’ve survived it. I wanted our one perfect night to stay untarnished, but the paparazzi ruined it by being the douchebags everyone knows they are.
“I left,” she says, her voice growing stronger. “I’m done with them, done with that life.”
“What?”
I know she wants to be strong, but she doesn’t have any experience out on her own. This world will eat her up and spit her out without thinking twice.
“Where will you live? Work?”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “Why are you so worried now? You weren’t when you left that hotel room. I didn’t come here to make you feel guilty. I know it was a goal, some sort of game. I just wanted you to see my face, wanted you to know you didn’t break me.”
Her voice hitches at the end of her declaration, but I don’t call her on it. Stubborn should be her middle name. I learned that a long time ago.
“Where are you going?” I’m borderline hysterical when she steps around me.
“I’m no longer any of your concern, Flynn Coleman. I’d say it was nice meeting you, but I’ve given up lying as well.”
She storms out of my office, leaving the scent of her floral perfume floating in the air.
By the time I snap out of it and chase her down, she’s already gone.
“Where is he?” I hiss when I find Wren’s office empty. Even the bird is gone.
“He’s heading to Nana’s to see if she’ll watch the bird. Can you believe Puffy attacked Whitney’s cat Simon?” Jude shakes his head. “Poor cat has a nasty infection at the base of his tail.”
“Who knows how to look shit up on that thing in there?” I point over my shoulder to indicate Wren’s computer. They all blink at me like I’m speaking a foreign language which makes me look at Ignacio. “Do you?”
“I’m pretty sure he has the thing set to self-destruct if anyone touches it,” he answers.
“What do you need help with?” Brooks tries for serious, but the smile in his eyes betrays him.
Now is not the fucking time.
“Looking for someone?”
“Flynn,” Deacon warns when my fists ball up and I cross the room toward Finnegan.
“Laugh it up, motherfucker,” I hiss before letting my eyes roam over every one of them. “Did anyone ask where she was going?”
“She ran out of here like her ass was on fire,” Deacon says. “I’d say she doesn’t want to be chased this time.”
She’s going to get it whether she likes it or not. I fire off a text to Wren and his ass must still be bitter about my refusal to watch that damn bird because all I get back is new phone, who dis?
I’ll strangle him later.
“Is there a certain reason you need to continue the conversation she barged out on?” Ignacio asks with a smile.
“You,” I snap, my finger pointed in his direction, ready to blame him for everything.
“Me, nothing. That train was derailing before we even stepped foot in the city.”