Page 17 of So Bad It Must Be Good

“Why would you want to change?”

“Because I don’t like myself very much. I haven’t been happy much, and I kept waiting for something to change—something big to happen that would suddenly reveal itself to me as the thing I needed to do. But . . . it’s not coming. It’s never coming.”

She sounded so bleak, and it wasn’t something Kayla Gallagher should feel. She was beautiful and bright, and though she’d been cut off, she was a part of this privileged world. She could have been anything, done anything.

Before he could offer something comforting or sage in response, she straightened her shoulders, her hands leaving his body, though he was ashamed to realize he’d moved a little toward her as she’d pulled her hand away, as if he could keep that physical connection longer.

Yeah, he really needed to be avoiding physical connection, or connection of any kind.

“So I decided to stop waiting and start doing.” She gave a sharp nod and looked around his workshop. “You do, all the time. You do and you make and I want to do something like that. I can paint—did you know that?”

He shook his head vaguely because she looked so determined and very nearly fierce, this woman he’d always viewed as fragile.

“I always liked to. I even thought about going into art. Graphic design or similar to make it practical, but . . .”

“But what?”

She chewed on her bottom lip, so he forced his gaze to her hairline, where the rich red strands curled around her face.

“I was afraid. I’ve always been afraid. Of being a failure, or not being good enough. I was always afraid of letting someone down, of letting Gallagher’s down, because Gallagher’s is all that matters really. It’s all that ever mattered.”

She blinked, and he didn’t think she so much looked at him as she did through him while her mind was somewhere else.

“I should get drunk all the time. I’m figuring all sorts of shit out,” she said with a little laugh. “Because that’s it, I’ve been afraid. And I’m not going to be anymore. That’s what I’m going to change.”

“Well, I suppose that’s a, uh, good, um, choice,” Liam offered lamely. She didn’t need him fixing things at all. She had it all figured out. Which was good, really. Great, in fact. Get her home and she’d no longer be his problem.

She pressed her hand to her stomach, the smile on her face dimming to something more like a grimace. “Well, I’m not ready to give up fear quite yet, because right now I’m very afraid I’m going to throw up.”

Well, shit.

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