Page 158 of Rush of Jealousy

“There was not a shootout?”

“Apparently not.”

I can sense his reluctance to share information with me, as he grabs the remote and shuts off the power.

“Why would someone set off fireworks into a crowd? Was someone trying to cause fear and make everyone flee?”

“I don’t want you to worry about this. I have my men looking into it. I want you to tell me about your nightmare instead.”

He rubs the wrinkles from the fleece blanket over my back, silently coaxing me to open up to him. His eyes search mine for answers or at least some sort of explanation as to why I was screaming in the night and emptying the contents of my stomach into his perfectly pristine porcelain bowl.

The sun is barely visible over the mountains, indicating the start of a new day. But I feel like there is nothing about today that hints at a fresh start. I have so many unanswered questions about last night, and I am still having the same issues as I was months ago with nightmares. If I can’t get over my past, how will I ever be able to move forward with my future? It’s like I am always being held back—by the memories and by the guilt that I am living and James is dead.

“I’m going to get dressed and go back to my townhouse.”

“What?” He shakes his head back and forth as if trying to understand my words.

“I just need some space.”

“No,” he answers suddenly. “Why?”

“I…just…I…can’t do this…”

“Do what, Angie?” He can’t keep the anger out of his tone. “Tell me.”

I slump back into the plush cushions of the sofa, wanting to be swallowed up inside them.

“Okay, you don’t have to talk. That’s alright. Just don’t leave. Please stay,” he implores.

I sip the cider, using the mug to warm my now frigid body. I find my handbag on an end table and unzip it to pull out my cell phone. Two messages flash over the screen and three missed calls. It is seven a.m., and the streetlights of the city are starting to disappear like dying stars as dawn breaks. I play with my phone, remaining silent, looking for the simplest of distractions. I give Graham an affirmative nod in regard to his request. I unlock the phone and read through my messages. He gets up from the sofa and paces a trench near the windows, running his hands through his hair in a nervous gesture. Great, I am driving him just as crazy.

The first one—sent last night from Zander—catches me off guard.

Zander: Text me that you are alright. Please. I heard about the riot. It is all over every news station. I left before it all went down.

He was also the one who called me three times. I stare at the screen and type out a quick message that I am okay and was physically unharmed. Mentally? Still up for evaluation.

I open the second message, smiling at a silly picture of Ethan and Claire both wearing face masks and cucumbers with the caption—Self Care. She knows exactly what to do to make me laugh.

I snap open my pill case when Graham seems distracted and toss back the little white pill before he can notice. It will help with my migraine. The bitter taste explodes with my saliva as I force it down my throat with a scratchy swallow.

Graham’s expletives shake my core; he’s pissed. “What did you just put into your mouth?”

“Calm down; it was just a Tylenol,” I lie. “I have a headache.”

“You need to drink water.” He walks over to the kitchen, grabs a glass out of the cupboard, and fills it up through the fridge’s filtration system. “Here,” he says, handing me the huge glass. “Drink it all.”

“So bossy.”

“Don’t pretend not to like it.”

I smirk at his words. “True. You are mighty sexy when you get all authoritative.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “I need you to talk to me. But I’ll wait until you are ready. I want you to trust me enough to talk about these nightmares.”

I sniffle and slurp down the water from the glass. “Why even bother with me? Surely there are easier women?” I stare up at his bloodshot eyes—an obvious sign that he too needs more sleep.

“I’m in too deep now to quit. You make it near impossible for me not to want you, despite my better judgment. You should have never joined Entice, but if it wasn’t for you joining, I might have never met you. So maybe Claire isn’t so bad.”

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