Page 185 of Irreversible

I consider what he could possibly want to tell me.

A business proposition.

My mind reels, each scenario spinning in my mind like a whirlwind of motives and hidden agendas. But my curiosityoutweighs my reservations. “Fine,” I agree, wheeling my gaze toward the entry door, a prickling awareness at the nape of my neck, reminding me that Isaac is just beyond it. “One night.”

His eyes brighten. “Yeah?”

“I’ll text you my address. Pick me up at seven.”

“Perfect. I appreciate?—”

I don’t let him finish. Spinning on my heel, I head in the opposite direction, my pulse thrashing. When I glance back a few yards later, Jasper has disappeared into the night. I pause on the sidewalk, uncertainty clawing at my gut. Isaac is still inside the club, and I wonder if he’s waiting for me to come back. To chase him down and cross some invisible line between us.

This new wall.

Should I?

I dally on the sidewalk as movement distorts in my periphery. Late-night pedestrians blur past me, the clap of heels against pavement blending with muffled words and soft laughter. Lamplight illuminates a slew of unfamiliar faces, colorful jackets, blazers, lipsticks, light hair, dark hair, a pink-and-navy checkered suit?—

I slam my eyes shut.

No.

He’s not here.

The Timekeeper is not coming for me.

It’s over.

When my eyes peel open, I notice my hands are trembling violently. I rake my fingers through my hair, steadying myself as I try to summon one of my mother’s hokey pearls of wisdom.

“Every second spent living in the past is a second wasted in the present—and there’s nothing worse than waste.”

I shake off the jitters.

As I take a step forward, another body bumps into me. My purse slips down my arm, crashing to the cement as a group of twenty-somethings blow past with cell phones in their hands.

Sighing, I bend to retrieve the fallen purse. But before my fingers clamp around it, two black boots enter my line of sight.

A blink. A breath.

A large hand snatches up the purse before I can, and I find myself staring up into a pair of blazing brown eyes. Isaac’s expression is stoic, his fingers hooked around the strap as he extends it toward me with unnerving calm.

I stand and square my shoulders. “No.”

He raises a brow, gaze sharpening. “No?”

“No,” I repeat, meeting his stare with fire. “Unless you’re finally ready to talk?”

I’ll give him one more chance—a chance to show me the man I thought I knew.

But he just stares at me, his lips curving up with a smirk. “You seem a little…wound up. If last night wasn’t enough to take the edge off, I’d be more than happy to help.”

My jaw clenches.

I rip the purse from his hand, cheeks burning against the cold air. “Leave me alone, Isaac,” I mutter, turning sharply and stepping forward, aiming for a quick escape.

But I don’t get far.

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