Page 28 of Issued

“I’ll take care of it.”

She blinks, lips parting. With a small curse, she turns and storms off. I don’t know for sure if she’ll talk to her supervisor about leaving early, but I’m determined to wait her out either way. When I’d thought she wasn’t telling me all of her story, I hadn’t expected it to be a fire.

What exactly do I know about her?

I know she hates confrontation. It makes her uncomfortable. More than uncomfortable. Yet, she’s more than capable of speaking her mind when she feels strongly about something. I know she’s currently struggling with a mission onHalo 2, and she enjoys running. There’s a bit of a daredevil in her, if the motorcycle is any indication. And she’s stubborn like me, especially when it comes to money and what she conceives of as a handout. The woman refuses to use the debit card to our mutual account for anything other than groceries or household goods. She won’t even use it to fill her tank with gas.

But when it comes to her reasons for joining the program, all I have are assumptions. Not many people can lose everything, only to turn around and start over somewhere else. What about her friends and family? A lover? She’d asked once if I’d been seeing anyone. Did she leave someone behind in New York?

Maybe I could try explaining the TBI to her. Saying it aloud feels too much like admitting to weakness, but she should’ve heard about it from me instead of Brittney.

“Now what?”

I jump to my feet at the sound of her voice and spin to face Taya whose hands are wrapped tightly around the straps of her bag. I’ve been so lost in thought, I didn’t hear her approaching. That’s a new one for me. “Now, we go shopping.”

Her brows furrow, disgust spreading over her face. It’s hard to tell whether she hates the idea of shopping or shopping with me. At least we’ll be miserable together. “Come on. There’s a boutique that isn’t far. We’ll find you something for the party.”

“What about my bike?”

“If you can carpool tomorrow, I’ll come by for your bike while you’re out.”

She adjusts her ponytail, so it sits lower, closer to her neck. I’m tempted to brush my hand through it, but I stop myself.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll just follow you there.” As we exit the restaurant, she mutters under her breath about how I shouldn’t have waited until the last damn minute.

It doesn’t take long to reach the small boutique. Like most of the shops along the beach, it’s a tourist trap. The clothes are high-end and one of a kind, and the price tags are about one hundred dollars more than they would be elsewhere. It’s the reason I buy most of my clothes from the outlet mall down the street from my house.

Taya pulls one of the dresses from the rack. Holding it up against the length of her body, she admires the way it sets off the darker undertones in her skin. Then, she catches sight of the price tag and her eyes bulge. “Three hundred dollars for a dress?”

I turn my chuckle into a clearing of the throat. “It’s a nice dress.”

“It’s not that nice.” She reracks the dress and searches for something else.

“Doesn’t matter what you pick.” I comb through the rest of the rack, bowing my head so the brim of my cap can shield my face. “You’ll look amazing, regardless of what you wear.”

There’s a soft inhalation, the smallest of gasps, and she moves away almost immediately. We search in silence for a few minutes before she pulls a long red number made of silk from the rack. I raise a brow at the choice, but don’t have any complaints. Considering her usual wardrobe, I wouldn’t have pegged her as the dressy, glam type.

“I’m sorry about the other day.” It’s like popping a dislocated bone back into place. Don’t think about it, just dive right in.

Dubious, she readjusts the dress in her arms. “For which part?”

I snort. “How about all of it?”

She shrugs as if she doesn’t care as we walk through the shoe aisle, but I can tell by her expression that she does. Everything she’s thinking broadcasts on her face. I know the question she wants to ask but doesn’t.

“It’s not an excuse, but I’ve been dealing with something. More accurately, refusing to deal with it. I told you what I do, but I guess all the low-level shock waves from breaching entrances took their toll.” A massive understatement. “The doctors claim I’m suffering from a traumatic brain injury, and even though it will heal, it sort of screws with my day-to-day life unless I keep up with my meds.”

Taya slumps, and the lingering anger on her face disappears like smoke. “You’re right. It’s not an excuse, but I appreciate you finally telling me. It made me anxious because every time I tried to help, you got angry, so now I’m never sure what to do.”

“Never meant to make you anxious. Just didn’t want to appear weak in front of you. Or anyone.” The urge to brush my thumb across her face, to kiss the curve of her mouth, is overwhelming. “If I had, I wouldn’t have needed to break into your room to get my prescription.” I chuckle, hoping to lighten the mood.

She gasps. “Oh, my God. Is that why you were...?” She groans, rubbing her free hand down her face. “I’m so sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have invaded your privacy, and I shouldn’t have taken your book. You were well within your right to snap.”

Taya waves my words away as she picks up a pair of gold ankle strap heels. “Your medication is more important than my privacy. Just know that next time, you can talk to me. I’m here for you.”

“I know.” The words are inadequate when it comes to expressing how much her support means, especially when she’s offered it all along. If only I hadn’t been so stubborn and accepted it sooner.

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