Page 164 of The Keeper

She’s right. I mean, I’m touching it right now. I touch it all the time because it’s the only piece of him I have.

“I hate this,” I growled. “Do you know how hard it is to keep my promise? To not call that asshole and rip him a new one for what he did to my sister? To not get on a plane and show up at his house and scratch his eyes out?”

“I know it’s hard,” Hannah soothed. “Bennet and Xavier are doing what they think is right. It sucks but it’s the only option you have.”

“It’s a shitty option,” I shouted, drawing a few curious stares in my direction. “How does Xavier removing himself from my life keep Jordan away from me? How? I mean, not even a fucking text message for three weeks? How is that keeping me safe?”

“It’s hard to understand, for sure,” Hannah kept trying to calm me down. “Love makes people do irrational things sometimes.”

“Irrational,” I repeated. “This whole damn thing is irrational. I’m not getting the whole story and it’s driving me crazy. I’ve had it.”

All the anger and hurt and guilt I’ve kept simmering inside me the last few weeks came to a boil.

Red.

Furious, blinding, suffocating red.

My hands clenched into fists.

“I can’t do this anymore.” I stood up and stormed out of the bar.

I don’t even know where I wanted to go. The muted sound of Hannah calling after me did nothing to slow me down. I weaved in and out of people, pushing my way past groups of tourists who diligently waited for the walk sign to give them permission to cross the street.

Screw that.

A taxi’s horn blared its displeasure as I ran through the crosswalk. I gave the driver a spirited one-finger salute and kept going.

Speed walking has never really been my thing. It’s well-known that I prefer pacing in mindless circles. Or figure eights, depending on the situation. But this worked for me now.

Don’t mind me, fellow people of New York City. Hurricane Victoria reached category five and made landfall somewhere between West 58th and Broadway. By the time I reached Columbus Circle I had to stop. Not because my feet screamed at me or my lungs strained to find another breath. I stopped because if I kept going, I’d end up swimming across the Hudson into New Jersey.

Okay, fine. That’s way too dramatic. But in all seriousness I can’t keep walking aimlessly around the city.

I miss him.

I miss him.

I miss him.

Emptiness spread through my chest, cracking open a cavernous hole. I missed his voice. I missed how rough it sounded when he’d tell me all the dirty things he wanted to do with me. I missed his deep, silky laugh. His wide, crooked smile. His dimple. The way his sapphire eyes glitter brighter than the night sky.

I missed how I felt when I was with him.

I missed the soft, comforting way he’d touch me when I was upset.

Frustrated, I found a random bench and sat down. My phone kept vibrating in my pocket. It was Hannah. It had to be.

All the missed text messages from her confirmed my suspicion when I checked. I know she’s worried. And I appreciate her for being a solid friend during this confusing, annoying time.

Keeping what I’d found out from her would have been impossible since her relationship with Bennet was becoming quite serious.

And apparently I’m on this crusade now to let people into my life, even the worst parts of it.

So, yeah.

Hannah knows. She actually knows more than Killian at this point.

No, it doesn’t sit well with me. But I truly cannot break his heart. Not yet.

---