Page 22 of Rulebreaker
Me, apparently, because I don’t think I have it in me to let anyone close without that background check.
And that feels…
Well, I look at Lily, who’s back to bantering with the girls and Dash, thoroughly dismissing me, I look at Willow who was a shell of herself just months ago. I look at Royal, who’s gathered Jade close, the words they’re exchanging private and for their ears only…and yet leaving them both with smiles on their faces. I think of Banks and Aspen, starting a future, building a family.
And…
I can’t help but think that the fact that I have to control everything in my life—from those background checks to every single business deal that lands on my desk to all the personal and legal and professional problems that come for my friends—and wonder if I’m doing it all wrong.
All because a certain pop star pointed out a different path.
That should have me sprinting the other direction, running from what is certainly going to be messy and not within the careful parameters of my life.
But…I’ve had a taste.
And I don’t think I can let her go.
So when Willow and Briar slip outside to fix our “despicable” balloon arch, Dash trailing after his woman like the lovestruck man he is, I take advantage of Lily being alone and go in for what I hope will be a very pleasurable second course.
Oh, how laughably wrong I am.
“Lily,” I say as she fusses with a flower in the arrangement she’s putting together, twisting it this way and that, placing it in front then shifting it to the back.
She settles it back in the front then turns her head to look at me, those blue eyes so beautiful, I get lost in them for a second.
At least until they fill with mirth.
Because I’m just staring at her. Again.
“Do you want to go out to dinner with me?” I blurt, the words coming out in a rush.
I watch the answer cross her eyes before she says it out loud, but both feel equally bad. “I really had a nice time,” she says, “but I can’t manage a relationship right now with all of my travel.”
“Right,” I say, disappointment twisting through my insides. “No worries. I get it.”
She sees that disappointment and I fucking hate it. “Atlas?—”
I slap some approximation of a smile on my face. “No hard feelings,” I tell her, mind spinning. “I totally understand.”
Then I do what I do best—I plan.
Because there’s no way I’m going to let that dismissal be the end of us.
EIGHT
Lily
On the road again.
I could hum the notes to a song with that title but I’m too tired.
Bad weather, traffic, and an upset stomach from too much rich food put me behind and now I’m trying to play catchup. On texts with my friends. On the shows I like to watch to relax. On freakin’ everything.
Days like today, I feel like I’m pulled in too many directions. Like too many people want a piece of me and I’m running out of pieces to give.
My phone buzzes in my purse as I get to my hotel room, but I ignore it, throwing on the lights and sighing with relief that my luggage is already here. I’m spoiled, no doubt, but I work hard, so it’s the little things–like luggage service and private jets–that allow me to do what I do at the level in which I do it.
Flipping the light switch, I make a beeline for the bathroom.
