Page 80 of The Suit

Here’s the thing about running from your problems: you get tired. You slow down. Wear sets in. You find yourself caught in the cold grasp of reality.

New York had shown me that the glittery hoops they’d handed me to jump through were nothing but fancy nooses.

Which is how I ended up back in the place I swore I’d never return to.

I sniffed, reaching for my bag again. I attempted to run a brush through my hair, but when it got stuck on the out-of-control curls, I gave up and pulled my cap back on.

I was a lost cause all round.

I put the car into drive and slowly moved through the entrance, down the long, winding road. As I travelled deeper and deeper into the cemetery the gravestones changed, morphing from the elaborate crypts and tombstones to those with more modern markings; plain, clean, understated. With each section the car crept past, the tighter my heart grew until I was gasping for air; and then the spot I was looking for appeared – my muscle memory working overtime when everything came flooding back like it was yesterday.

I slowed the car to a stop and killed the engine, right by the three white headstones I could see in the middle of the plots. Even though they were all so similar, these three stood out like they’d been spot-lit just for me.

My hand reached for the door, where it stayed. I tried to open it, tried several times, but whenever my finger squeezed round the handle, I couldn’t gather enough strength or air in my lungs, to follow through.

I was going to end up be here all day if I wasn’t careful.

The buzzing of my phone reminded me I was on a time constraint; it was a workday, and I was supposed to be in the office two hundred and fifty miles away. However, what was almost more panic-inducing was the fact that I couldn’t seem to find a single shit to give.

As much as my heart was pounding against my rib cage, it was the first time in two weeks I finally felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

And Rafe Latham had everything to do with getting me here.

“Hi, Blake,” I answered, just before the ring cut out.

“Hey, what took you so long to pick up? Also, where are you? I thought you’d be in already; I have your coffee.”

From the corner of my eye I caught a movement - a bird had swooped down and landed by the car. I watched as it began pecking the ground before zeroing in on a worm who’d clearly been going about his business, doing his worm things, when out of nowhere, a razor-sharp beak clamped down round his neck. They started tussling and the worm was putting up a good fight, but then the bird stretched its legs out for a bit of leverage; one hard tug and it finally succeeded, then flew off with its prize dangling from its beak.

The sinking feeling I’d been carrying around sunk further when it dawned on me thatIwas the worm in that scenario. The worm who hadn’t been strong enough in the end, too small to stand up to the bigger bully.

“Beulah?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, hoping to block any impending migraine brought on by my lack of sleep plus every single thought I’d ever had racing around my brain at the speed of light. I refused to be the worm any longer, which meant I needed to do something about my situation, because if I wasn’t careful, the razor-sharp beak of FSJ would be clamped round my neck. Soon.

“Yeah, about that. Thanks for the coffee but you can have it. I’m not coming in.”

“You’re working from the hotel?”

“No, I’m taking some time off.”

There was a loud rustling, and the voices I could hear in the background suddenly quietened. “Sorry, it was noisy. Say that again, I didn’t hear you properly.”

“I’m taking some time off.” I waited for a response but got nothing except the whoosh of a severe inhale. “Blake, I haven’t taken a day off in my entire life. I’m cashing in now. Cover me for a couple of days, please. Anything on the case can go to Kimberley.”

“You’re taking the day off?”

“Couple of days, yes. Three max. Please cover for me. Please.” It was the closest I’d ever come to begging, if you didn’t include the past week with Rafe.

He was silent for a moment. In fairness I wasn’t one for vacations, because I lumped them in the same category as the holiday weekends. What was the point?

“Sure, okay, I can do that. But what if Hot Lawyer comes to find you again? He didn’t want to deal with Kimberley last Friday, and he wasn’t happy about the suggestion either.”

I picked at a small chip in my nail I hadn’t noticed until now. When I’d pulled up last night, I’d had a missed call and a message from Rafe saying he hoped I’d got back okay. I hadn’t had the energy or brain cells to reply to him, but I knew that if I didn’t soon, he wouldn’t stop trying to get hold of me until he did. Not after that kiss. The kiss that had melted the final cold, unresponsive vestiges of my soul. And not after he said he liked me, as though he was passing me a note at the back of a fourth-grade classroom.

Warmth flickered through my chest. Everything came back to Rafe.

He liked me. I liked him. I more than liked him.

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