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“Get out,” I tell them both, pointing my finger toward the door. When the gentleman closest to me tries to speak again, I go for the jugular. “Get the hell out of here before I call the police.”
His eyes turn into slivers of dark irises, and he nods once before heading out the door.
But Ezra stays and steps toward me.
If he thinks his audacity is a match for my wrath…
“Eloise,” he starts, reaching for me.
I am weak. His fingers brush against my arm, and I almost want to give in.
Because the last time he’d touched me…
No.
“You’re disgusting,” I tell him as I yank away. I can’t look at him. I can’t know that this is the same person who’d fed me a fatal dose of hope.
All is silent as he walks away from me again. The sound of the bell jangling has me placing my hand over my chest.
Before Kitty can utter a word, I rush back into the office, tripping over the trash bags as I try to force my way in.
I pick up one of the bags, shouting as I throw it against the wall. The thunk it makes doesn’t quell the anger burgeoning inside of me. I take another and tear at it, yelling and grunting as I do.
I let some piece of shit Neanderthal fuck me, only to find out he just wanted my store. And I greeted him like a lovesick teenager!
Embarrassment and annoyance rush through me.
I’m panting, surrounded by shredded paper and absolute filth, ready to dig into another bag when I hear Kitty behind me.
“Well, that was graceful,” she says, her words dry and her eyes appraising. “Care to tell me who that hot jerk was and why it seems like you two already know each other?”
“Nobody. Don’t worry about it.” The words seem so harsh as I spit them out, so I try to soften the blow, adding, “It was nothing, Kitty.”
I’m still in this angry state that won’t allow me to completely come down to kindness, not even for my little sister.
And I hate it.
Kitty nods slowly in response, the way she does when I’m trying to spoon-feed her bullshit to avoid the truth. “Right. It sure came across as a whole lot of nothing.”
She walks over to me and grabs my hand.
I’m struck with the need to remind myself that she’s younger than I am. That while her ability to soothe is an extraordinary gift, it isn’t one I feel comfortable accepting.
“You know, you can talk to me. I'm still your sister. And you don't need to treat me with kid gloves when it comes to your dilemmas, and more importantly, when it comes to things that hurt you,” she says, attempting to lock eyes with me.
But I’m unable to commit to the moment, unable to give her the connection she desires.
Still, not wanting to hurt her feelings, I nod and take stock of the mess I’ve made. Of this office, the bookstore, and what’s left of my family.
I pull my hand away and push both of mine into my pockets. “Everything is fine. I’m not hurt, just a little pissed.” In an effort to give hersomething, I tell her, “That guy is so awful. I’ve seen him around before but...what an absolute jackass.”
“Yeah. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to punch him in the face or ride his face. But then it became pretty clear that the correct choice was the former.”
And just as quickly, I’m reminded of her age.
“Quit being so crass,” I tell her, attempting to hide my own flush at the thought of the words I’d told him. Of the way he’d spread me open and...
I shake my head.
