Her All Along

She made quick work of dialing herself so it would be saved on my phone, and when I got it back, I added her as a contact under Taylor Sloane.

“All right. I, uh…” I nodded at my car, indicating I was ready to leave.

“Yeah, of course.”

I paused when I noticed the disappointment on her face, and I wondered if there was something else. Maybe she needed an appointment with the… Well, she couldn’t go to the counselor here, but there were plenty of others.

“Do you have a grief counselor or someone else to talk to?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, Keira and I go to a place twice a week,” she replied. “It was the only way we could convince our grandmother to fly home. That wasn’t what I—I mean…” She blushed for some reason. “You know what, never mind. Keep me posted on Keira. I appreciate it, Mr. Becker.”

Fair enough.

“Goddammit.” I tossed another test onto the pile of the ones I’d graded and rubbed my eyes.

It felt like someone had poured a bucket of sand in them.

A yawn slipped out, and I leaned back in my swivel chair and squinted at the clock above my desk.

Almost two in the morning. Good thing it was Saturday tomorrow.

Ethan and I were taking Lias to the bar before he returned to the East Coast. It would be nice to have him home permanently soon. He and his girlfriend were moving back in a couple months when Evelina’s internship at some company was completed.

I suspected there would be a wedding to attend within the next couple of years too. Against all odds, Lias and Evelina had been together since junior high. Through high school, through college. Though, I reckoned it’d been easier since they’d both attended college in New York.

Evelina… Another young woman I liked. She was good for Lias. When he’d struggled in school, she’d been there to support him. And remind him that he could reach out to me.

I eyed the bookshelf above my desk, or more specifically, the book Darius had given me as a joke-but-perhaps-not-just-a-joke for my last birthday. A book about remarkable women in history.

I wasn’t going to read it. It went without saying that remarkable women existed, but it was a reminder. I still had work to do in that department. I didn’t want to be single for the rest of my life, and it wasn’t fair what I’d been doing. No matter how well-founded my trust issues were…

I released a breath and scrubbed at my face again. The past several hours, I’d had an annoying headache.

Hadn’t Pipsqueak once told me I might need glasses?

Fuck it, I wasn’t going to get more work done today. I got up from my chair with a grunt and snagged my phone. I had two messages waiting for me, and I read the one from Pipsqueak as I brought my coffee mug and empty dinner plate downstairs.

I think I’m gonna love my junior year. There’s a new guy in my class, and he’s so fucking hot, I could die. (That’s a figure of speech.)

What the hell was I supposed to say to that? For starters, I guessed this meant she was over Chad. Other than that… Christ, did she have to remind me of how quickly she was growing up? Part of me couldn’t believe she was in high school, much less that she’d be a senior next year. Then she’d be off to college. College. Fucking hell.

I typed out a brief response after I’d loaded the dishwasher.

Glad you’re enjoying school.

The other text was from a certain Taylor Sloane.

My eyebrows lifted as I read it.

I used to have the biggest crush on you in high school. The crush is gone, but if you’re not seeing anyone and want something casual, I’m interested. Very interested.

Eleven

“Why can we never go to your place? Or hell, my place. The seedy motel vibe is getting old.”

Not this again.

I glanced at Taylor over my shoulder as I zipped up my jeans. “I don’t want any lines blurred.”

I’d told her from the start, this was as casual as could be. I’d never brought women back to my house—ever—and I wasn’t about to start. Given how tainted my previous house had become—one wife who’d gone behind my back, then my fucked-up revenge operation including a bunch of loose bitches—I didn’t want to ruin the current place I called home.

Maybe this thing with Taylor had run its course. I’d anticipated a couple months of no-strings sex, but we were going on six months now, and we even met up for coffee at times.

She was becoming…sweeter, and it made me uncomfortable. She’d complained about the fact that I didn’t enjoy kissing, which wasn’t technically true. I was just going to extremes to avoid attachment. Kissing was intimate, and I didn’t feel that way about her.