Page 137 of Bad Blood

“Yes—no.” It’s not his fault I’m wound up and high on adrenaline. I scoop the keys off the stoop. “I am trying to . . .” I drop the keys. Again. “Fuck.”

“Sounds like I should call you back.”

“No, just—hold on a sec.” I cradle the phone between my cheek and shoulder, grab the keys off the landing, and direct them into the lock. Once I open the door and drape my purse over the railing, I try to center myself. It’s no use. My brain screams at me: he’s on the other line!

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

“Where were we?” I try to sound unfazed. But the glaring question is, do I succeed?

He chuckles. “I lost my train of thought.”

Do I mention the napkin now? Or go about as if it didn’t happen? For all he knows, I didn’t get it. Maybe it blew off in a gust of wind or someone else took it.

Wind in a parking garage? Seriously, B?

My mouth betrays me. “What does the napkin mean?” I want to take it back, force the words down my throat, but it’s too late, and I’m too screwed.

“That’s not why I was calling, but since you mentioned it, I was thinking of you and wanted to let you know you were on my mind.”

That’s not where I figured he was going with this. I’m glad he was thinking of me. I’m somewhat flattered and don’t know how to respond.

“How’d you get in the garage?”

“The elevator. Why?”

That makes sense. I can’t remember seeing security checking people into the garage when they leave the hospital, only when they come in.

“Was the note too much too soon?” he asks, breaking me from my thoughts.

“Not at all.” I grin, wishing he could see me, and I hope he can hear it in my voice. I stuff my hand into my pocket for the napkin I intend to put in my nightstand to pull out whenever I need a reminder that not every day is shit.

My panic rises as my hand gropes around, finding nothing. I look inside the pocket, although there’s no way my hand could have missed it, and silently freak out. I grab my purse and rifle inside, coming out empty-handed.

“You have plans tonight?”

“Not right this minute.”

“But you have plans?”

“No.” I grab my keys and hit unlock, watching the lights flash on my truck through the floor-to-ceiling windows next to my front door. Racing outside, I yank the driver’s door open, and my heart stops hammering against my ribcage. The napkin sits in the cup holder, and I pull it to my chest like a security blanket.

“You just said you did.”

“I meant I was busy going for a—never mind.”

“I’m confused. You are, or you aren’t busy tonight?”

I push the lock button and return to the house. “I’m going for a run at the park, and then I’m going to take a shower.” As soon as the words tumble from my lips, Jessie’s heart-shaped face and sweet smile pop into my head.

“And then . . .”

“I don’t have any other plans.” I force thoughts of her from my mind and reevaluate my need for a run. Maybe going to the park isn’t a good idea, but I need a way to relax from the chaos of the day. It’s not smart. But I can’t live my life in hiding. I’ll be fine.

“Mind if I swing by? I can bring Yogi’s.”

This is turning into more than I bargained for. Fast. I push the thought to the farthest regions of my brain. We can discuss whatever is going on between us later. I got into this mess and don’t know how to get out. It’s not that I want to get out of it, but it can only go one of two ways—a complete disaster or one of the best decisions of my life. Either way, all I can hope for is that it doesn’t ruin how things are going for Liam.

Run—an hour.

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