Page 64 of Eight Steps to Alpha

Chapter 22

Fe glancedinto the passenger window at Elliot’s reflection, trying to figure out what he was thinking. He hadn’t said a word since they all got in the truck. Actually, no one had. Both Prescott boys were sitting up front, and she’d been watching them from the back seat for the last fifteen minutes.

She should have trusted her gut and walked away before it was too late, but Colton had been so confident, so damned convincing, she went along with his plan.

Most mistakes she’d made in her life were chocked up to learning experiences and never thought of again, but she knew tonight would be one she never forgave herself for. Because the look on Elliot’s face when he came to rescue her would haunt her for the rest of her life. He looked like a warrior. A savage yet passionate warrior whose only mission in life was to protect her. The fact that she’d been reckless with that passion made her want to throw up.

But he didn’t look angry anymore, didn’t look sad, or any way in particular at all—but at the same time, there was something missing about him. The light-hearted Elliot. The fun-loving man she’d spent nearly every day with for the last five years. What was she doing? What had she done?

Colton pulled the truck beside the front of the building, and Fe climbed out of the cab needing the fresh air to breathe. She’d never felt like this in the open before, like the walls were closing in on her, like she did when she was having an attack.

Colton stepped out of the truck beside her, stuffing his hands in his front pockets. “Do you have a minute?” he asked, low and soft, and too close to her ear.

It was nearly one in the morning, the road was almost completely silent, and she wrapped her arms around her waist. Elliot was already walking toward their apartment, and by the set of his shoulders, she knew he needed his space.

She looked back to Colton, hugging herself tighter. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I just wanted to say that I was sorry. I didn’t know he’d take things so seriously.”

She closed her eyes “Elliot takes everything seriously.”

“Especially when it come to you.”

She adjusted her feet, squeezing her middle until it was almost painful.

“I knew he was protective of you. I didn’t know how much.”

Her nose burned, and she met his eyes. “And we made a game of it.”

“Fe, there’s no way we could have known—“

She turned toward the apartment. “I should have known. Maybe not you, but I—should have known.”

* * *

Her fingers werenumb when she turned the doorknob and pushed open the door. All the lights were out, and the apartment was exactly the same as when they’d left it. Elliot must have come inside, went straight to his room, and closed the door. Shutting himself in. Shutting her out.

She entered the bathroom quietly, splashed cool water on her face, then looked into the mirror. Black eye makeup surrounded her eyes, running down her cheeks in harsh streaks like she’d been crying. Her hair, which was normally brushed and soft, was now teased, and wild, and unruly.

She didn’t recognize herself. Not only the face that stared at her, but the woman inside. The one who danced with a man she barely knew, who would play games with the heart of her best friend. She picked up the bar of soap, fighting with an emotion that was making her shake. She franticly scrubbed the bar over her face, wanted all of it gone. The makeup, the hair, the clothes. She wanted it all gone. To erase tonight, to erase the pain she’d caused.

The harder she scrubbed, the more emotional she became, and the harder she shook. Eventually the makeup was gone, her hair was brushed out, but she didn’t feel any better.

What was happening to her?

When she opened the door to the bathroom, an oversized bathrobe tied at her waist, she glanced out into the apartment. She could see right away that Colton wasn’t there. Maybe he was cooling off, or maybe giving her space to do the same, she didn’t really care. It wasn’t fair to blame him, but she wasn’t ready to forgive him just yet either.

There was no sound coming from Elliot’s room, but a faint glow from under the door told her he was awake. She walked over to the cool surface, placed her hand on the door, and flattened it. “Elliot, can we talk?”

He didn’t answer, and frankly, she didn’t blame him. It was a selfish request she was making, a selfish life that she was living.

After a minute with no answer, she flattened her back against the door, and turned toward her bedroom. “Come in.” His voice came hesitant and soft, and sent a shiver down her spine.

She whipped around, her heart in her throat as she grabbed the handle and twisted. In almost darkness, he lay in his bed with his shirt off. His jaw tight, his glasses hanging on the tip of his nose, and a falling apart copy of The Hobbit laying amongst his blankets.

Her legs shook as she stepped toward him, so nervous, she could hardly keep herself upright. He propped higher on his pillows, bracing himself on his elbows waiting for her to speak.

“Can I sit?” she asked, swallowing hard.

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