Page 27 of Frozen Flames

“Harv?”

I finally look up at Claire, who’s been in my room for some time now, yet nothing is registering.

I saw her mouth move when she came in, yet retained none of her words.

Today’s a shitty day.

Today’s bleak.

Today’s not a training day.

I hate this feeling. It shouldn’t even be a feeling if the mere act of being depressed makes me feel nothing.

I’m numb in this state, as if there’s a veil inside me, covering anything that might help me think, feel,be.

Instead, it’s dark and lonely.

God, is it ever lonely in here.

“Harvey?”

“What do you want?” She looks taken aback by the harsh tone of my voice.

“I…I figured we should start PT soon.” I should feel bad about the telltale sign that she’s nervous as she looks down and plays with her manicured nails.

Yet nothing.

I feel nothing.

For her, for her feelings, for her wants.

I couldn’t care less.

I don’t know what happened.

Scratch that. I know exactly what dampened my mood all weekend.

Gemma.

Her boss brought her home after their work event on Friday because she had been drinking. It’s Monday, and yet I can still feel the fury injecting venom in my veins, leading the poison all the way to my heart.

The guy’s young—twenty-nine.

The guy has money—he has a driver who brought backourvan.

The guy has two fucking eyes that can see how hot Gemma is.

But she’s mine.

And then I remember Claire and the evening we spent together last Friday. I remember watching her read and listening to her voice and melting in her passion for the story.

And then I remember that Claire’s still sitting on my bed, waiting for my answer. It’s not her fault that Gemma was driven home by her rich, good-looking boss.

Of course I Googled the fucker.

Clearly, Ilovetorturing myself.

To make matters worse, I’ve noticed little things lately, like the amount of overtime Gemma has been working, how she has switched from wearing suits to tight skirts, and how she seems happier in the evenings when she returns home.

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