Page 123 of As the World Falls

I took my jet as fast as I could to Boston. The entire way there, I felt consumed with fear over losing her or not being able to keep her happy, but I never stopped to think about how I would.

What kind of life could I give her? She’s made it clear she wasn’t comfortable with my lifestyle. Was it selfish of me to make her live it? Would I be able to commit to her long-term? Marry her? And what if she wanted children? I wasn’t sure if that was something I wanted.

But despite all the threatening questions taking over me, the only thing I felt wholeheartedly was that no matter what the answers were to them, I knew I wouldn’t ever be able to let her go. Was it selfish? Yes. But I couldn’t help but be anything but selfish when it came to her. I wanted to get lost in her and her in me. There was simply no other way for me to exist anymore.

When I arrive in Boston, I go straight to her apartment building, hoping to find her there. I go inside, using the key I may have made with or without her permission.

It’s quiet when I go inside, and I can feel that she’s not here. Her presence isn’t lighting up the place like it does anywhere that she is. I walk around, looking for an idea of where she may be. I go into her bathroom and find it humid, with the mirror still slightly fogged. So, she had recently been here.

I walk out of her room, looking around some more, spotting what looks like a new jewelry organizer on top of her dresser. I gaze at her pieces, finding them more eccentric than the jewelry I sell. She had lots of floral or nature-themed pieces and even neon plastic earrings. Personally, I have always despised costume-type jewelry. Still, I find myself picturing her in the giant bright orange round earrings that look like orange slices, knowing I wouldn’t prefer her any other way. They reminded me of the small joys in life, the things I forgot to appreciate until I met her. Such simple things that could bring a smile to her face. Her ridiculous fruit earrings are just one of the many reasons I love her.

I head to the library next, and she damn well better hope I find her there because now I’m missing her, and I don’t handle that particular emotion well.

I’m there within five minutes, striding up the stairs two at a time and barreling through the door. I stop at the entrance, my gaze flying around the expanse of the library in front of me. I look over at the front desk, finding it empty. Movement behindit catches my attention, and I look at the windows behind it through the cracks of the blinds. What I see makes my heart feel like it actually freezes to a stop in my chest.

I watch Lance's hands cup Cecilia’s face, his mouth on hers. I watch as she shuffles backward and the way he keeps himself attached to her in the process. Panic engulfs me, and it’s like I can’t breathe. It feels like the world is falling around me, and I would be close to going with it, but then I see her eyes snap open. Her face curves in disgust, and her hands fly to his arms, trying to push him off her.

I’m moving—flying behind the desk and into the office. The door crashes open, slamming so hard against the wall that a crack slices up through the middle of it. Lance jumps at the noise, and I watch Cecilia use the leverage to push him completely off her. Her hand flies to her mouth in disbelief, and tears fill her eyes, and it’s then that I lose every last shred of patience.

I’m on him in seconds. My fist connects to his jaw, punching him and making him stagger back a step. I grab onto his shirt, slamming him against the wall, not giving a damn that he was already injured by the looks of the sling on his arm.

“If you fucking ever touch her against her will again,” I snarl, my voice inhumane and beast-like, “I will personally end your life with a smile on my face. Do you understand me? If you ever touch her, if you go near her, there is nowhere you could go that I wouldn’t find you and end your existence.” For a moment, I’m flooded with panic at the sheer violence I’ve never felt inside of me, but I eat it up, swallow it down as I promise the man in my arms death.

Blood coats his mouth as he lifts his drooping head to meet my gaze. “You’re a crook. I know you’re manipulating her.”

My hand latches around his throat, pulling a strangled gasp from him. “She—is—mine. I don’t care how you believe she is. Understand that she is. Deal with it, or I will kill you.”

“James,” I hear Cecilia’s small voice behind me. I breathe out, tightening my grip on his throat, finding comfort in the choking noises it creates from him. Then I release him. He drops to the floor like a pathetic rat, and I turn around, facing her.

“Yes, babe?”

Her lips tighten, her jaw popping as she glares at me. “Let's go. Now.”

“Disobedient and domineering today, aren’t we, little owl?”

She shakes her head, walking past me. She stops momentarily, glaring down at Lance, who sits upright on the floor, panting heavily, before she continues out the door. I follow her out, not sparing him any more attention when she clearly beckons all of it right now.

I follow her outside, amused by how she stares daggers at me from the passenger side of my car but still gets inside and buckles herself in. I sit in the driver's seat, start the car, and head to our home. She sits with her arms crossed over her chest the entire way back, not saying a word as she stares straight ahead.

That was fine. There would be plenty of stuff to say…after.

Once I park in front of our house, she bolts out of the car and storms inside. I smirk, following after her once more. She flies through the double doors leading onto the patio. Each door smacks the walls and swings closed before I burst through them.

“Is there a reason you’re treating our home like your teenage bedroom door?”

She spins on me. “You mean like how you stormed into my office at work?”

“I’m sorry. Was I interrupting you and your friend?”

Her eyes look down now, and she deflates a little. “That’s not what it looked like. I promise you.”

I watch her for a moment, noting how she looks genuinely sad and how her fingers now fidget with the waistband of her skirt. “I believe you,” I tell her, “But it doesn’t change the fact that you were there in the first place.”

Her eyes snap to mine with a new defiance that has me smirking again. She could turn it on and off so quickly. “That’s my job. How could you be mad about that?”

“Did you have work today?” I ask her.

“No, but?—”

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