Page 52 of His Property

She held up her hands. “Not what I meant, relax.” Her eyes narrowed. “Little defensive though, I’ve gotta say. Was there more going on here than just another temporary conquest?” Her lips twisted just the tiniest bit as she said the last word.

I ignored it though. I didn’t want to get into it, those deeper issues her tone hinted at. “More going on? I should be able to give you a snappy answer to that, but I can’t. Truth is, I have no fucking clue what I’m feeling, or what’s happening here. I thought I had everything figured out, planned. I knew exactly what I wanted to do, and then—”

“The heart got in the way.” Her voice was so quiet it was little more than a murmur, but the meaning behind the words hit me like a hammer.

What if she was right though?

I was a lot more fucked up than I realized.

You’re not fucked up at all. You just don’t want to face the truth here.

I was running. That was the brutal, ugly fact. She’d left, but I was the one running. Still.

How long, Ellis? How much longer until it’s enough? How much longer until it no longer haunts you?

It was at that very moment that I realized it. How fucking stupid I’d been. I shouldn’t be running.

I should be fighting.

For her.

I snatched up my coat, waving at Alicia to stay put. “I’ll be back in a while.”

Alicia’s brow arched, and I couldn’t tell if she was doubtful or fearful. Or perhaps something else entirely. “You sure you want to do this, Ellis?”

“I’m not sure of much of anything anymore.” I buttoned up my coat. “But if I don’t try, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Then I was out the door, and hoping to God I wasn’t too late.

* * *

Lola

Bag of groceries in hand, hunched over against the cold breeze, I was just about to punch in my unit number on the battered key-entry pad to my apartment building, when I heard the voice.

“Lola…”

I froze, listening intently. Sometimes the moan of the wind could carry sounds that eerily resembled words. Or names.

“Lola… look at me.”

Oh, my God.

It was Ellis.

Turning slowly, not quite believing what I’d just heard, part of me still expected to find nobody on the street at the bottom of the steep, cracked concrete steps that led down from the main entrance door.

But there he was, standing on the broken sidewalk, in a rich black coat, the collar turned up to shield his ears from the icy wind. Tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome.

Sir.

I shook that off though. Falling into old thought patterns, succumbing to the allure of the twisted desires I’d dived deep into with him werenotthe way to move on.

“You didn’t call,” I said.

“You didn’t either.” His voice was soft and low, strangely muted by the breeze.

There was so much unsaid. So much I shouldn’t say or admit. And, yet, the best thing for me, what a smart girl would do… was to say nothing at all.

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