Page 128 of Trailer Trash

Harlow

The dreaded next shift arrives.

Today, I quit. Killian already ended whatever we were. Now I’m ending the job. Clark can move me back to the hospital floor and find his son another sober aide. This arrangement ran its course. Yep. That sounds professional enough.

“You’re late,” Killian growls when I step into the mansion thirty minutes past my start time.

I wince and nod, but walk into the elevator. He follows closely. He seems off. More fidgety than normal.

“Why are you late?”

It’s kind of strange that he can make me cry, then be upset I’m a measly thirty minutes late.

“I hit something on the freeway and got a flat tire.” I step off the elevator.

“What?” he says, his tone demanding. “Why didn’t you call me?”

I set my bag in its usual spot and walk into the kitchen to get a drink. “You were working. Besides, it’s nothing. It happened during my lunch break. Hudson put on the spare to get us back to school. I stopped at a tire place after class and bought a replacement. That’s why I’m late.”

“Hudson,” Killian says the name like it’s poison on his tongue. “You’re still going to lunch with that asshole? In the car I bought you?”

I blink several times. Great. Now he’s holding the car over my head.

“Take the car back,” I snap, but immediately regret it. I wouldn’t have any way to buy a replacement.

“You don’t want the car?” he replies brusquely and sets his phone on the counter.

“Uh, yeah. Although, let me save for another first. Also, I’ve been thinking about this weekend and our date. I think it’s best we go our separate ways.”

He stares at me, then his deep brown eyes darken more. “Separate ways.”

I hesitate, then wince as I speak.

“Yep. I think this arrangement has run its course, and—”

“Why don’t you ever invite me to lunch?” he interrupts.

“Uh, what?”

Killian grips the kitchen counter, his knuckles white. He looks at the floor, trying to calm himself. The energy emanating around him is so intense that I step back. My heartbeat inches higher, like it senses danger before I do.

“What happened after I dropped you off?”

“What?”

“Did your ex fuck you?”

“Whoa! That’s none of your business!”

“Why did he send you four grand?”

My heart stops and I stare, mouth gaping open. Softly, I ask, “How did you know that?”

“Did he bury himself between your thighs right away? Or did you make him work for it?”

“Killian! Did you forget? You dumped me!”

“I need to know, Harlow. It’s under my skin. Lie to me. Did you let another man fuck you the same goddamn night I did?”