Restraint - Adriana Locke Page 0,51
wasn’t having it. And it just … devolved from there.”
My heartbeat quickens as freeze-frame images flash before my eyes.
I force a swallow down my throat. The passage is constricted as a wash of emotions reminiscent of that day flow through me.
A chill rips down my spine.
“When I got home from work the next day, she was gone,” I say, the words tinged with an anger I choke back. “And my house was a disaster. Paint in the bed. Broken windows. My clothes and belongings strewn around the house and in the pool. It was … it took weeks to clean it up.”
And even longer for me to trust anyone again.
“I sat in the bed, in the middle of the paint and broken glass, completely numb. It felt surreal. A complete violation of my trust. I questioned everyone and everyone’s motives for a long time after.”
Maybe I still do.
My eyes find Blaire’s again. She’s watching me carefully.
“Wow,” she says. “I’m sorry. For you both, really.”
“She didn’t come around for a long time. She didn’t show up at the events that she never missed even before all of this. No one heard from her, and her parents wouldn’t talk to me when I tried to check on her. They still won’t speak to me when I see them around.”
“That’s not your fault, though,” she says. “You didn’t make a commitment to her.”
“But I didn’t take care of her as I should’ve. I should’ve been clear from the start. I guess I assumed too many things too.” I sigh. “My life goes a million miles per hour sometimes. I’m responsible for so many people, so many families. It’s all I can do to keep my head above water most days—but that’s my choice. I love it. Kendra got sucked in and spit out, and I blame myself for that. Even if I didn’t mean to do it.”
I push my chair under my desk and then lean against it.
Blaire stands in front of me, her hands wrapped around her middle. She’s less rigid than she was when she first entered but still too tense to make me relax.
“I have a hard time letting people in because of that,” I say softly. “I generally don’t like being too incorporated into someone else’s life, either, because then I have a responsibility that I don’t have time to take seriously. I miss stuff. I miss signs. I can’t do things the right way, and the right way is the only way I want to do everything.”
She leans against the bookshelf and watches me out of the corner of her eye. I think she’s mulling what I just said over and trying to make sense of it.
I know I sound pretentious—as though I have some crazy pull on women—but that’s not at all what I mean. I hope she understands that.
“Can I ask you something?” she whispers.
“Sure.”
“Why did you ask me to stay?”
Her eyes shine with some unnamed emotion. Whatever it is staring back at me is raw and unfiltered. This moment, beneath the harsh yellow light and in a plain white T-shirt that hangs mid-thigh—Blaire Gibson is the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her.
“Honestly? I don’t know,” I say. “You’re strong. You hold your own. You’re gorgeous and intelligent, and I enjoy talking to you. And it probably didn’t hurt that you live a thousand miles away.”
She almost smiles. “I figured that helped.”
“At least I’m honest.”
She blows out a breath and paces a little circle. Her fingers tug at the fabric of her shirt—clenching and unclenching it on repeat. Finally, she stops and looks at me with a resolution that makes me hold my breath.
“I have trust issues,” she says.
“I’m aware.”
She cracks a grin. “I’m serious. I really do. I don’t think I even understood the depths of it until I got here.”
“Why here?”
“I’m out of my wheelhouse,” she says, looking around. “I’m out of my routine. The people in my life know what to expect, and none of them pushes the agenda. But then I come here and meet you, and you don’t know the lines I’ve established. And then Sienna, bless her heart, somehow feels like I’m on her turf down here, and now we’re going to be best friends.”
“She’s a good friend to have.”
Blaire’s shoulders fall. “I don’t … I don’t know how to be a friend, Holt. I don’t know how to tell you things about me and know you won’t ridicule me for them.”
I push off my desk. “Do you think I’d