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“Why would you?”
Clearly, this isn’t going to go as planned.
“You really are a pain in the fucking ass, aren’t you?”
“No.” I can see him holding his arms in frustration from hundreds of miles away. “You said you’d do a job, so I figured you’d do it. And if I can be honest with you, I think you’re making a huge mistake.”
“How the fuck am I making a mistake?”
“She’s so much younger than you, bro, and she’s your best friend’s sister. You’re supposed to have more class than that.”
“Oh, fuck off. Who the hell are you to give advice? You spend all your time alone.”
He groans under his breath. “Take care of your shit and enjoy your ride home, little brother.” The line disconnects and I sigh. I should’ve known better than to call Gentry, especially regarding something like this. The dude has been jaded for God knows how long, all because he’s hung up over someone he couldn’t have.
For a moment, I look into the future. Maybe it’s not bad that I called him. Maybe it’s good. Maybe I needed to call so I could realize that letting this end right now only leads to a life of disgruntled misery.
I can’t do that,not when I know without a doubt that my little bug wants it too. She wanted it, and no one can take care of her like I can. There’s no doubt in my mind. The thought of her even falling into someone else’s arms with that baby makes my skin crawl. I couldn’t handle seeing it.
Pulling my phone out, I text her again.
Me: Tell Kelly to turn around.
I don’t wait for a response. I hop down from the truck and stalk back into the hotel. Security doesn’t see me. Thankfully the place is small. I think there might only be one guard patrolling.
My phone beeps but I ignore it. It doesn’t matter how she tries to push me away anymore. I’m not stopping myself from making this happen. She’s mine. Even when she wasn’t mine, she was mine. And this time, I’m not walking away empty-handed.
I stalk down the hallway studying each number on the doors.
Fifteen.
Sixteen.
My stomach knots. She could keep the door locked and never decide to let me in. She could call for security or the police.
Seventeen.
Then again, she could let me in, and we could make things better.
Eighteen.
I knock on the door. “Open it or I’m knocking it down.” I hadn’t expected those words to come from my mouth, but here they are, spilling out like I have no brain in my head.
“Leave,” she shouts, “or I’m calling security again!”
“Call them. I’m not moving.”
“You’re psychotic! I’m not opening the door.”
“Tell me you never wanted this,” I growl. “Tell me you don’t love me and I’ll walk away. I’ll walk away for good.”
She doesn’t speak, but the lock unlatches, and the door opens a crack.
Tears stream down her face. “You’re losing it. Do you know that?”
“Actually,” I swallow hard, “I think I might finally be making sense.”
The door opens a bit more, and she stands with her arms at her side. She hasn’t invited me in, but she’s given me the space to enter.
