Page 46 of Stay for Me

As I walked down the hallway, the moonlight seeping in from the windows, I felt another chill sweep down my spine. My body was telling me to stop, warning of me of the possible danger, but I was too irritated to listen. Lucas barging back into my life was the last thing I needed.

I’d built a life for myself here.

I’d escaped the mold my parents tried to force me into.

I was happy—well, as happy as a person could be, anyway.

My eyes were locked in on the door; I knew from past experiences that Lucas was either one of two things: roaring drunk, which meant he would be sweet, almost loving or high as a kite. If he was drunk, he would beg for another chance, apologize for all the things he’d done to hurt me and, depending upon how much he’d drank, cry.

If he was drunk, I could send him away easily.

If he was high, however, that would be difficult, to say the least.

It wasn’t until I was halfway through law school I discovered my high school sweetheart was an addict and I’d never forget the night I’d found him shooting up between his toes in my bathroom. The drugs, a mix of everything you could think of, made him angry—more so than normal. So, if he was, in fact, higher than a kite on the other side of my front door, I would have to be on my toes.

“Just send him away and be done with it,” I whispered.

The doorbell rang once more as I reached the door. I had my gun in one hand as I wrapped my fingers around the door knob with the other. I held my breath and looked through the peephole. Lucas leaned against the brick wall, his head hanging, his body swaying slightly.

I stared at him for sometime.

Was he asleep?

I shook my head, already imagining the mess I would have to deal with in the morning.

Why me?

Suddenly, his head shot up, and he tried to straighten. “Diana,” he called, his voice cracking. “Babe, open the door. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was dick. I’m sorry I haven’t been the man you deserve, but I’m willing to change that. I’ve spent the last ten years without you, babe. I fucking need you.”

I let go of the breath, a small sense of relief settling on my shoulders, washing down my back like a waterfall.

He was drunk.Thank God.

“What do you want, Lucas?” I asked through the door, watching through the peephole.

His head snapped up, revealing red-rimmed eyes and a busted lip. Whatever bar he’d gone to must not have treated him well. That was the thing about my ex: he was a shit talker. He thought himself to be the alpha in whatever room he walked into.

“He must have pissed off a cowboy,” I muttered under my breath. He looked like shit.

“Babe, let me in,” he begged as his throat bobbed.

Here we go.

“You showing up on my front door at this hour isn’t appropriate, Lucas,” I said matter-of-factly through the door. “You need to back to the hotel.”

Actually, he needed to go back across the damn country and stay there.

He braced his hand on the door, hanging his head again as he groaned my name.

I rolled my eyes, slightly frustrated that a younger version of me fell for this same act countless times in the past. “If you don’t leave, I’ll be forced to call the police,” I warned.

He lifted his head again, looking into the peephole now, and even though he looked like he was stuck in a fishbowl, his words were damning. “I know about the job application.”

My chest deflated, shock slamming into me like a runaway train, knocking me back. Chills spread across my body, leaving a trail of goosebumps as my mind began to race. I looked to the ground, shoving a hand in my hair as my gun hung at my side, the weight of it reminding me of the power it held.

How in the heck did he know about that?

“Diana, you can pretend in front of your little friends, but you can’t pretend in front of me,” he continued, sounding more sober than before. “You want to come home. It was just a matter of time.”

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