Mallicks: Back to the Beginning (Mallick Brothers 5)

"It's scarier to go alone," I admitted, it being a fear I typically played close to the vest, knowing how weak it made me sound. There were simply so many things in life I didn't know how to do. Basic life skills I had never learned because no one had ever shown me, things that I hoped Helga could walk me through. All those stupid, useless classes in high school when what we all really needed was How To Be An Adult 101.

"Maybe you won't have to be alone," Charlie said, something guarded in his tone. "At least not forever," he rushed to add. "You'll meet people, make connections. Good ones this time. With people who won't try to sell you to Colombian drug lords."

There was nothing funny about that, but I felt a bubble of hysteria rise up in me, making a laugh escape my lips. "I'm sorry," I said, fighting for composure. "I know this isn't funny. It's just... it's so ridiculous that this is my life. Who else has moonlight beach conversations about running away from home to avoid becoming chattel to some South American drug dealer?"

"Yeah," he agreed, body and eyes and smile softening as he watched me. "There are far better things to do on a moonlit beach," he went on, something in his words making my belly wobble again. Seeming to sense it as well, though, he took a step back, put more distance between us, both physically and emotionally - or so it felt.

"I owe you some sort of meal," I reminded him, wanting to go back. Back before this conversation upset a perfectly good evening.

"You're a busy woman," he reminded me.

"The diner gives me breaks," I informed him.

"And they do have food there," he agreed. "What time are you working tomorrow?"

"Six to midnight."

"Ten-ish for a break?"

"I can make that work," I agreed, giving him a small smile.

"Alright, let's get you back to your car," he said, holding out an arm, but not putting it behind my back or reaching for my hand like I was hoping.

In fact, the whole way back, he kept a full arms-length away from me at all times, like being close was suddenly a repugnant idea.

And I couldn't help but wonder as I climbed into my car, if maybe the only reason he had agreed to coming to the diner was because I had suggested it, because he was a nice guy who didn't want to go back on his word.

"Lock it," he said after tapping on the glass to get my attention, making me jolt.

My hand moved to press the lock down, reaching for the handle to roll down the window a few inches to let out the stagnant heat trapped inside.

"Goodnight, Charlie," I said, keeping the strange sadness overpowering me tucked away to be dealt with when I was alone.

"See you tomorrow night," he agreed, giving me a smile, but it was tense.

I turned over the car, and sped away before I could tell him to forget it, not to take pity on me, that I didn't need it.

Because, well, I guess I did.

I wanted his attention.

Even if maybe it was out of obligation.

Weak and pathetic, I decided as I climbed out of my car, slamming the door with more force than necessary, having to drag it back open to haul out my purse, then slamming and whacking it with my hand for good measure.

I was late, and I didn't even bother to tiptoe my way in the front door before starting up the stairs.

"You're late," Michael's voice accused from below me, making me stop on a stair, turning back to him, my annoyance with myself and my life in general on open display. "Where have you been?"

And that was it.

That was all I decided I could take.

This night.

This life.

"Oh, me? I was out fucking a dozen men on the beach!" I declared, waving an arm out dramatically, my purse shooting off my shoulder and hanging off my wrist. "And it's none of your fucking business," I added, dropping my voice, low, lethal, before turning on my heel, and storming up the rest of the stairs, slamming and locking my door with gusto before throwing myself into the shower.

It wasn't until I was naked under the spray that a strange, hysterical laugh burst out of me, half joy, half terror.

I did it.

I stood up for myself.

Sure, it was only because I was feeling dejected and a bit insecure about Charlie's weird behavior on the way back from the beach, but it still counted, I still did it.

Maybe I'd pay.

Maybe I would regret it.

But that wasn't the point.

The point was I did it.

I didn't shrink.

I didn't cower.

I didn't bite my tongue to save my neck.

I hardened.

Maybe just a little.

Maybe just for a moment.

But I had done it.

And if I had done it once, I could do it again.