Page 38 of Even if It Hurts

And even though hesitation was pulling at me, screaming at me to go anywhere else, I realized with each step toward the elevator of my building that my apartment was the only place I wanted to be.

I kept telling myself it was because that was the only space that wasmine. That, once I was up there, I could finally get out of this outfit and drown out my thoughts in my gym—try to forget who I’d buried today. But with each floor the car climbed, flashes of stormy blue eyes and a blinding smile pulsed through my thoughts—mocking me with what I knew would be waiting for me and what I couldn’t entertain even the idea of.

But the second I stepped off the elevator and into my apartment, all the reluctant anticipation that had been building in my veins was replaced with an instinctive, sickening sort of dread when I heard country music pouring out of my speakers.

I ground my jaw as I started through the apartment, already seeking out the girls when my gaze landed on something that hadn’t been there just this morning. Something thatshouldn’tbe there. But just as my lips parted, my attention snagged on another new item and another.

Just like that, my pulse spiked as I took in the décor that had Lainey’s name all over it. From the plants to the bright throw pillows and blankets to the oversized basket in the corner that was filled with Kaia’s toys.

It wasn’t even cluttered, but from the way apprehension twisted through me and threatened to suffocate me, my living room might as well have been filled with drugs and rodents and old food.

Funny. After everything I’d seen and done overseas, you’d think I’d have PTSD from that. But, no...give me a room that was anything less than minimalistic and immaculate, and I was a child in a filthy trailer all over again, struggling to protect and raise my siblings while our mom played twisted games with our lives.

“Miss Pearson.” Her name ripped from my throat as my stare bounced between each new thing faster and faster until it snapped to the side at the sound of her quick steps.

She rushed down the hall with Kaia in her arms, my niece barely visible from where she was wrapped up in one of the little towels that had an animal hoodie. “Hey,” Lainey said breathlessly, smile brighter than I could stand. “Hi, sorry. I didn’t know when you were coming back, so I started with her nighttime routine.”

I pointed at the ceiling. “Never again.”

She readjusted Kaia’s weight on her hip, a line appearing between her eyebrows as she glanced up before seeming to realize what I was talking about. “I’m sorry.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment and remorse. “I should’ve asked if I could use your speakers.”

“You can,” I informed her darkly. “Not for this kind of music.”

At that, surprise replaced everything else until I continued.

“Get rid of it,” I demanded, loosely gesturing to my living room.

I’d been sure I couldn’t feel any worse after this morning, but that look like I’d crushed her before she could mask her emotions? It tore at me. Made me falter as I fought to remember why I couldn’t comfort her and why I didn’t want her pillows and plants.

“I’m—Mr. Briggs, I’m sorry,” Lainey whispered, her tongue darting out to wet her lips as her gaze drifted toward the rest of the living room before struggling to hold mine. “I just thought it might—” She cleared her throat, her head shaking just slightly. “You’re right. It wasn’t my place. I’m sorry.”

She’d apologized four times in half as many minutes.

She couldn’t even look at me anymore.

And I didn’t know how to undo what I’d done.

I stared at her helplessly as she stood like a statue, holding onto my niece and seeming to wait for my next reprimand until Kaia started crying. At the sound of those first sniffs before Kaia loosed a pathetic-sounding wail, Lainey quickly glanced around, only briefly touching on me before she focused on Kaia.

“Can you stay?”

Lainey’s head shifted toward me at the question, but the way her eyes continued moving so they never stayed on me had my stomach wrenching.

“I need an hour,” I told her, and knew from how quickly she looked away that I hadn’t succeeded in softening my tone.

“Of course,” she said, already turning to head down the hall she’d appeared from.

I watched them go, wavering for far too long after they were gone, before heading upstairs to change. Just before I reached the last step, the music cut off so abruptly and resolutely, it shredded something deep inside me, almost making me wish she’d turn it back on.

I’d deal with the unmistakable, bone-chilling sounds of country music if it’d take that defeated look off her face—if it’d make her brave enough to look at me again. But I’d never been the kind of person to apologize. I wasn’t sure I knew how to. More than that, I wasn’t sure I could make Lainey understand why I was the way I was.

But when I caught a glimpse of where she was reading to Kaia half an hour later, I realized Iwantedto.

Apologize . . . make her understand . . . let her know me.

I stepped around the rowing machine I’d been walking toward, giving me a clear view of the living room. The sight of Lainey curled up on my couch, holding a snuggled-up and exhausted-looking Kaia gripped at my chest in a way I couldn’t define.

Dangerous . . . this girl was more dangerous than anything I’d ever encountered.

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