Page 131 of Time Stops With You

Because Cullen said he’d be here and he isn’t? It’s not like I don’t know where he works. Even if he wanted to escape me, he can’t. Cullen Tech is…

I stomp.Right.

I stomp again.Beneath.

One more for good measure.My feet.

“The hell is wrong with you!” My downstairs neighbor curses me out and slams a broomstick against his ceiling threateningly.

Oops. I hunch my shoulders and slink out of the bathroom to go to bed.

My dreams that night are all of me valiantly reclaiming my pride. I wake up rejuvenated, ready to tell Ronan Cullen exactly where he canstuffit.

And it won’t be in me. That’s for sure.

Vengeance on my mind, I shower with the fancy gel that came along with my perfume. I spray a few perfume drops in my hair since I haven’t been able to properly wash it since my wrist sprained.

Next, I wear a button down blouse with a low neckline and a short skirt that I bought on a whim but never had an occasion to wear.

Doing makeup with one hand is a total no-go. However, I work carefully to smear my mouth with a pigmented lipstick that flatters my dark complexion.

You can look but you can’t touch. That’s what my outfit says today.

The only problem is my hair but, with one hand, this loose ponytail is the best I can do.

Determined to go to Cullen if he won’t come to me, I pack my purse. “Josiah, let’s go! We’ll be late for school!”

My brother lumbers wearily into sight, still rubbing his eyes.

I give him a suspicious look. “Why do I still see pillow creases in your cheek. Did you shower correctly?”

“Yeah.”

“Josiah did you even shower at all?”

“Yeah.”

I narrow my eyes. “I don’t believe you, but we don’t have time. Let’s go.”

“Why do we have to leave so early?” My brother yawns and I hear his jaw pop.

“Because I’m driving with one hand. I want to move carefully and not rush in traffic. Come on. Grab your lunch box and let’s get moving.” I nudge my brother out of the apartment and down the flights of stairs.

The sun is out and the birds are already singing as we make our way across the parking lot. Most of my neighbors’ cars are still parked. It looks like we’re the first to head out for the day.

As I draw closer, I see a man in a pressed white shirt and trousers waiting in front of my vehicle. He’s unfamiliar to me and I’m immediately on high alert.

The man sees me. He checks his phone as if to verify something and then advances in my direction.

I throw a protective hand across Josiah’s chest, moving my brother backward. “Who are you?”

“Ms. Davis, I’m Roger Lionel.”

Josiah puts his phone down and stands beside me, his chin tipped up. I admire his bravery, but this isn’t something I need him to handle.

“How do you know my name?” I accuse, keeping my distance. Yet, some part of me already knows what he’s going to say.

“Mr. Cullen sent me,” Roger says.

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