Page 48 of Dangerous Bonds (Dangerous Bonds 1)

“You deserve just as much respect when you’re supplementing my granddaughter, Nevaeh’s college education and spoiling her, so you’re stuck with Miss Johnson.”

Thank God, I got something right.

“You know what, Miss Millie? I’m just going to give up on this battle.”

“That’s right, child. You can’t win. I’m the elder here with more weapons and ways to get around you.” She cackles like little old ladies with too much, but well-earned, knowledge are inclined to do.

I can’t help giggling, conceding defeat. After letting her know my guesstimated arrival time tomorrow, I ask would she kindly upset her regular routine to dust and uncover the furniture, then I siphon directions to Tommy’s restaurant from her. That’s when I learn that her granddaughter works there as well. I have to talk her out of buying groceries for the house. They’ll go to waste since I’m not going to be there that long.

She ends the call to start the emergency cleaning. I change my skirt and matching jacket, replaced on the hangers emptied of fitted, stonewashed jeans with designer holes and a sleeveless, high-neck shirt cropped to above my navel. While tying up my sneakers, I deliberate on how stupid could I be to let Orion goad me into turning back the hands of time.

I backtrack out of the house, into my car, before I grow weak under the pressure I’m exerting on myself with worrying about the outcome of this trip. I cover the distance between my flat and the airport in thirty minutes instead of the legal fifty. Long-term parking is usually a bitch to find a vacant space in. Oddly, I find one as soon as the cashier gives me a parking ticket. After an impromptu jog across the pickup and drop off lanes, I breeze through security check with minimal fuss over my two bags.

The check-in line is bizarrely short. It’s almost like something or someone is paving the way for me to get to Arrow sooner than I want to. I still need time to steel myself for seeing Tommy again, even as I walk through the terminal to board the plane.

You can do this, Kat. Even if you can’t right now, you got ten hours of flight-time to figure it out. Besides, Tommy sucks balls. He hasn’t earned your emotions… and he doesn’t own you or Arrow. You have every right to go back there.

But something in me is convinced that he does own me and Arrow lock, stock, and barrel, or I wouldn’t be damn near petrified to go home. It’s his territory now. I’ve tried to make London that for me. Mostly cold, rainy, and gray London. There are no snow-capped Sangre de Cristo Mountains as backdrop anywhere in England. No family or friends here, aside from Orion, to visit on the days that are dreary, which is every minute I’m not working my ass off.

Even when it’s sunny out, warm, the perfect time to be on a date, I rather watch television, sleep in, spring clean in the winter. Anything but date. I wasn’t like that in Arrow where I was constantly looking for any reason to be outside with Tommy, whether the snow had blanketed the ground or the sun was parading in the sky and donating its heat and radiance to everything outdoors.

My existence here is wash, rinse, repeat. No way to live and be happy, clearly. I suspect I’m never going to be that here, too.

Well damn. I miss home. A shit-tastic time to recognize that, Kat, after you left it behind with Tommy. And now, you’re going to look him up? What has the world come to?

And then, I exhale. “I’m going home.”

Something in the pit of my stomach unfurls, then stretches out. For the first time since I left Arrow, I want to go home.

*********

Ten hours later

The plane does unnecessary acrobats while landing. Whatever had unraveled inside me before takeoff in London balls right back up in Colorado. I’m worse off than I was before I left: anxious as hell, hands slightly trembling, a light sheen of sweat on my forehead. I’d think I was in withdrawals, if I had been on some kind of dope recently. Yeah, well, it might not have been recently, but an addict is always an addict, and Tommy was as addicting as heroin. Being forty miles away from him, I’m so close to my next hit, and I’m damn sure that I’m already feening for him.

He’s just a man, Kat. Calm the hell down already. It’s not like you can shoot him up your vein.

I probably would if I could, and that’s just sad. You’d think I’d have jumped on board of Orion’s runaway train to brag and lie to Tommy about how good life has turned out for me. Make him feel bad for cheating on me. Well, I don’t want to, and life isn’t all that gravy.

On the way out of the airport, I find myself smiling while getting into a waiting cab. I can’t recall the last time I felt like doing that without another human being triggering it. Evidently, all I need is the blazing Arrow sun on my face, fresh air rushing down from the mountains, and to be home. Even the much more expensive than it should be cab ride to my childhood home can’t stop me from cheesing like a Cheshire cat that wants to find Tommy right away.

I force myself to go to my house, instead, to drop off my bag. Nothing’s different. The suburbs are still the suburbs with manicured lawns, and it’s ultra-quiet this early in the afternoon. The house is still an imposing two-level, red brick with a long, paved walk from the curb to the front black door, and not where I want to be.

We park on the driveway in front of the side garage. Inside, Millie has uncovered the furniture. I pawn my carry-all off on the brown leather arm chair with gold nail heads, then breathe in the serenity and good memories here. The ones of Tommy visiting daily mess with my head the most—he was welcomed here and as loved by my parents as I am.

To this day, they’re disappointed that Tommy and I didn’t work out. The first time they said that to my face turned me into a raving lunatic for the second time in my life, and that time, I was shrieking about they loved him more than me if they thought I should forgive him. It seems only my loved ones can pull me completely out of character, and I have never regretted more than right now not forgiving Tommy after his only mistake in our relationship.

We’re all entitled to one, right? Just not ninety-nine relapses of the same error.

He was only twenty-nine, still finding himself. Old enough to learn to not to do something again. Was I too harsh on him in the past? Am I making excuses for him now just to justify my wanting him no matter what? Well, I did try to beat him between the eyes with a plant.

I would have, if he hadn’t raised his arm at the last second, which had to have left a bruise on him. With that, I think I got unplanned payback in the end, and it’s sort of hilarious now. It wasn’t even remotely funny back then, but it’s been ten years. How much longer should I let the wound on my heart fester before letting it heal, acquitting him of the damage done?

The half a minute it takes you to get back in the cab to resolve your issues with him, Kat, that’s how long, my heart answers, ready to restore the brokenness in me. Me too, so I dash toward the front door like there’s fire at my heels, stopping at the gold scroll-framed mirror hanging beside the doorway under a straight-back chair.

Checking my hair, a little fluffing of the wavy tresses curtaining my shoulders is the best I can do. I’ve never been one for the makeup, but a little lip gloss has never killed anybody… I don’t think. After putting some on, I lock the house, approach the cab, and scare the bejesus out of the Nigerian driver sitting patiently, reading the newspaper.

He follows the memorized directions that I give him to Tommy’s place a few miles from downtown Arrow, braking before a black canopy mounted to the first floor of the building with a glass-front that sits far apart from other commercial buildings on each side. A ledge over the canopy sports Tommy’s Cuisine in huge, white italic letters. Off to one side of is an alfresco-dining are

---