Page 113 of If Our Hearts Collide

When Chris’s documents check out and nothing appears to be disproportionate or shady, I pile everything into the folder and lean back into my chair. Closing my eyes, I rub my fingers over my forehead, settling in at the bridge of my nose. The pulsing pain behind my eyes alerts me that I’m going to need to drink some more water. I am dehydrated.

I walk through my apartment, feeling the sting of loneliness. It’s crazy to think about how having Penny here for just one night gave me a little taste of how things could be if I let someone into my life.

I’m a picky bastard, though. Not many women can handle my level of need for control and for things to be in their set place. I have an unhealthy level of OCD that gives me the ability to function with clarity. I am not sure I can handle anyone coming in and shaking everything up.

I open the door of the kitchen cabinet and pull out a glass, dropping it as my eyes connect with a huge spider at the bottom of it.

Except it’s fake.

What the hell?

How did that even get there?

I toss the plastic critter into the trash and move over to the fridge to fill the glass with ice and then with water.

At least it didn’t break…

I can’t believe I forgot to drink something after working out at the gym with Graham and Nic. I rarely make those types of mistakes.

As the pulsing in my forehead elevates, I make my way into the living room. Settling in on the sofa, I feel the vibration of my phone alerting me of an incoming call.

“Hey, Graham,” I greet, accepting the call.

“The legal team is breathing down my neck about prepping Penny for trial. Obviously, there isn’t going to be a trial. Are you still on board with the plan?”

“Absolutely.”

22

PENNY

After a week of nesting in my apartment, I’m ready to get out and socialize.

I thought living in the same building as Collins would be stifling with his overbearing tendencies, but he has been quiet for the last few days, and deep down I feel lost without his attention.

Granted, I’m pretty sure he is avoiding me like the plague now that I revealed my schoolgirl crush to him.

He’s probably watching me still but definitely not making it known. That’s what I wanted, right? Some independence and no smothering.

Glancing down both sides of the street, I don’t see him, which isn’t all that surprising.

It feels weird not to have a visible shadow on me. A very small part of me misses the attention.

I enter Ground Floor before I overanalyze any more things tonight and change my mind. My whole goal since getting out of Soulful Mind is to challenge myself and to step out of my comfort zone. I’m tired of being complacent. I’m tired of allowing circumstances to dictate my path.

No. Some things are definitely in my control.

Glancing around the space, I notice that the tables in the coffee shop are spread out more, but the intimate lighting is still the same. The place feels warm and inviting, with the smell of coffee still permeating through the air.

I fix the hem of my fitted black tank to rest along the waistband of my dark denim jeans. Being too afraid to have the girls help me get ready in fear my brothers would find out, I settled for Luke’s very descriptive opinion of what a man wants, which could have been summed up in two words—skin and tight.

Apparently women that try too hard or wear too much makeup are a turnoff.

So, with his advice, I chose jeans and some mascara.

The fanciest thing on me are my shoes. Luke said men are whores for sexy shoes—so I went with the high-heeled ones. They were an emotional splurge purchase that I made after I got back home from visiting Mark at the prison.

I look down at my sparkling Cinderella-esque shoes, knowing that not even their superficialness can change the fact that I’m a pathetic princess searching for her prince.

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