Restraint - Adriana Locke Page 0,91
not cut out for this. Not today.
“Let me help you up.”
I still at the words coming from behind me.
And at the voice.
I tell myself it’s a case of déjà vu and that Holt really isn’t standing behind me. It’s like his cologne a few moments ago and the car I thought was his that was parked on the street by the coffee shop this morning.
It’s wishful thinking.
I press my palm against the floor and stand. Dusting my hands off, I turn and gasp.
“What the …?” I stammer.
I think I’m seeing things. But at least I’m seeing good things.
Holt is standing in the middle of the crowd. He’s dressed in a black suit with a black-and-white-checkered shirt. His tie is my favorite. It’s the one he bound my hands with.
My eyes fill with tears. I’m afraid to blink. If I do, he might vanish.
But instead of disappearing into thin air, he moves closer.
“What are you doing here?” I whisper.
“Well, it turns out I have a very important matter to take care of today,” he says gently.
He stands tall and peers down at me. His eyes are so beautiful, so clear as they search mine.
I want to pull away from him. I don’t want him to read me because I know he can. With one look, he’ll know I’m a mess, and he’ll have the upper hand. But even though I want to do this, I want to hide from him, I don’t.
Being vulnerable is a strength, and I’m just figuring out its magic. But allowing myself to be open to feelings and experiences—both good and bad—is the only way to discover the powers that lie within me.
I used to think that hiding behind a cold façade made me strong. Untouchable. Impenetrable.
I was wrong. I only knew true strength when I gave myself a chance to love and be loved.
If Holt wants to see my pain, I’ll let him.
“Good luck with that,” I tell him.
My voice stays strong, and I’m glad for it. I’m all for him seeing how much he hurt me, but he needs to know he’s not going to walk all over me either.
“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asks.
“Nope.”
His face falls.
“Aren’t you supposed to be meeting with Landry?” I ask.
He looks at his watch. “It’s probably just getting over right about now.”
My brows pull together as I try to make sense of what he’s saying. But as his gaze finds mine again, something tugs on my heart.
“Why aren’t you there?”
“I told you. I had an important matter to take care of today.”
I don’t want to ask. I don’t want to do this. And if I have to do it, I don’t want it to be here in the lobby of my building around people I’ll have to see every day.
I turn on my heel. “I have to go.”
“Blaire. Wait.”
I turn my back and march toward the doors. My lashes barely hold back tears.
I don’t think I can do this—not here. I don’t think I’m equipped enough to feel all of this kind of pain right now.
The website said to feel it all but not to let it overwhelm you. This might be overwhelming.
I blow out a breath.
My palms hit the door because I don’t wait for the revolving one as I shove my way outside. Holt is behind me. I feel his energy, but I don’t look back.
I don’t stop until I’m a half a block away and the crowd has thinned out a little. Only then can I press my back against a building and try to gather myself.
It takes all of two seconds for Holt to be standing in front of me.
“I was so fucking wrong, sweetheart,” he whispers. “I am so, so sorry.”
He’s standing so close to me that I can feel his energy rippling off his body. I shiver at the contact, wanting so badly to dive into his arms.
But I don’t. Because I don’t need to. I’m stronger than that.
“You could’ve called me about this,” I told him. “Your apology didn’t warrant an in-person exchange.”
He shrugs sheepishly. “I tried. You sent me to voicemail.”
“You could’ve left one.”
“I don’t really do voicemails. So much gets lost in the mix.”
“Well, I don’t really do men who think that they can just pop up in my life when it’s convenient for them. So if you’ll excuse me.” I give him a pointed look and head down the sidewalk again.
It kills me to walk away. It’s like a knife in my heartless cavity. Each step is