Page 34 of Burning Daylight
“Please,” he adds, quieter now. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
Click.
I stare down at my phone, my mouth half open in disbelief.
Four years of freedom. Of space. Of breathing without the Calloway name coiled around my throat. And just like that, they’ve swooped in and slipped the leash back on. It shouldn’t still sting, not after an entire life of it happening. But it does.
I run a hand down my face, fingers curling at my jaw, and I already know…I’m going.
Not because I want to, but because I never really had a choice.
Someone laughs loudly, and I look up just in time to see my stranger walking out the front door, shaking his head like he’s disappointed by something.
My stomach flips.He’s still here.
If anyone can take my mind off the way I feel right now, it would be him. He’ll probably piss me off enough on his own to smother any other emotions I’m currently struggling with. And maybe that’s exactly what I need.
I’m up and out the door right after he leaves, making sure to keep my distance. Just in case I chicken out.
We walk straight down the street for a few blocks and then finally make a right turn into what looks like a two-story motel but seems to be an apartment building with faded blue doors on the outside.
He disappears into one of them, so I assume he must live here.
I look around, debating what it is that I’m going to do.
This isn’t like me. I don’t follow people, and I definitely don’t make rash decisions without analyzing every possible outcome and how it could affect me.
I should live a little while I’ve still got the chance, like Felicity implied last night. Maybe even get fucked.
The inner voice doesn’t calm me down. In fact, the fire that started brewing while I was on the phone with Paxton rages like an inferno until my palms are clammy and my heart is pounding like a fist against my chest.
I’m leaving here in two days.
Gone.
Sucking in a deep breath, I race across the street before I lose my nerve and stop right in front of his door, my hand poised to knock.
My arms shake.
What the hell are you doing, Jules?
Squeezing my eyes tightly, I rap on the door.
Oh my God, I think I might throw up.
This is stupid. So, so stupid.
I’m about to run away, but before I can, the door swings open, and I come face to face with Trouble.
9
ROMAN
Shock doesn’t begin to describe what it feels like to see my little rose, looking hot as fuck, standing on my front step like some sort of fever dream.
“What a coincidence,” I murmur, leaning casually against the doorframe. “I was just thinking about you.”
Her lips are parted, like she’s surprised I answered the door, and when I speak, she snaps them closed and clears her throat. “You were?”
