Page 33 of Free to Run
“You’ll be doing all of that from my place, Alison,” an unwelcome voice says from the door. Jared’s arm tightens around me.
We both turn to see Keene standing there. He looks infuriated and determined.
I turn around to face Keene straight on and say, “They said it was the summer storm of the century, Keene, not that hell had frozen over. What are you doing here? Where did you get that ludicrous idea?”
Keene leans against the doorjamb. “I came for you, baby, and after what I just overheard from Jared’s partners, apparently not a minute too soon.”
I laugh dismissively. “Right, like you give a shit whether I stay or go.” I turn to Jared and touch his cheek briefly before murmuring, “I’ll call later.”
“If you can find the phone,” Jared responds, not leaving me with confidence. I stride past both men and out of Jared’s office, intent on making my escape.
Keene catches up while I’m waiting for the elevator. I press the button, then press it again.
“Pressing the button won’t get it here any faster.”
His calm logic infuriates me more. I ignore him and lean forward to press the button again. This time, with more force.
“It’s an illusion of perceived control, Alison. A psychology professor at Harvard did a study on it.”
“Maybe the effort isn’t futile in this case. Maybe pushing the button six times will make the elevator arrive six times faster. Maybe Jared’s firm is smarter than your professor’s study. After all, he went to Harvard,” I snap.
At that moment, the elevator pings, notifying us of its arrival. I don’t bother throwing a triumphant look at Keene. I want to be as far away from him as I can get. I press the button for the lobby, and Keene manages to slip in before the doors close. As we descend, calmness overcomes me. The walls I had begun to erect around my heart crumble. What’s left is a mass no man, no human, can penetrate. I feel the comfort of numbness, the beauty of nothing. No pain. No wounds. No hurt.
I’ve learned something this week. Words are as violent to the heart as a punch is to the body. Words wound as much as they heal. But broken promises are worse because it’s where you base your dreams, and when those promises die, so do those dreams.
The budding promises I had with Keene died the same night they were born years ago. Tonight, the promises I made with the rest of my family were destroyed.
I’m left floundering with nowhere to drop an anchor for my dreams.
I guess my father was right. I’m nothing. I was a fool to think I could ever change it. Stepping from the elevator, I don’t acknowledge Keene as I make my way toward the lobby doors. Getting out of this building is my priority, despite the raging storm outside.
Escape. Run. Get away.
I’m lengthening my stride when Keene’s hand shoots out and grabs my wrist.
Facing him, I try to shake it free. His hand tightens more. “It’s been a long day, and I would like to retire to my hotel room. If you or your family have questions about the business conducted tonight, contact me in the morning.”
“You’re not going to the hotel, Alison,” Keene bites out, stepping closer to me. I feel nothing. Nothing but numbness from my pain. There’s a freedom in being numb.
I carefully step back. “I’m leaving to check in at my hotel. I would appreciate if you’d let me go.”
He steps forward, closing the gap I’ve made between us. I step back. Again. The narrowing of his eyes tells me I’m not going to get much farther.
Then, the expression on his handsome face softens. “Alison, please. Don’t be stubborn for no reason. If you need to be alone, my place is certainly large enough for you to have your own space.” I open my mouth to refuse again, but he cuts me off. “The guest bedrooms are on the opposite end of my condo. You can have your solitude.”
I reach down to where his hand is still holding my wrist and pry his fingers off. Leaning toward him, I whisper, “Right now, if the difference was between sleeping in my car in the middle of the storm or staying at your place, I would roll down the windows and welcome the rain.” Turning, I walk to the doors.
The doorman jumps up from behind his desk. “Miss, do you have anything to cover yourself? Do you need me to call you a cab?”
Offering the poor man a wave, I stop in the door. Turning slightly, I see Keene standing where I left him. As the whipping wind catches my hair, I reply for both of them. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll survive.”
And I hurry off into the torrential rain.
* * *
Hours later,I’ve checked in and settled into the Hilton’s presidential suite.
Because I’m in one of their premier rooms, the bellman who escorted me up assured me there was nothing they wouldn’t get for me. Putting in my request for something to sleep in, I change out of my soaked clothes and into one of the two robes hanging behind my bathroom door. While there might be no rest for the weary, I figure that has more to do with my soul. Tonight, my physical self is going to try to relax in a tub overlooking the New York skyline.
