Burnout - Coralee June Page 0,78

parent I had left.

21

Blakely

The doorman stared curiously at me as I walked inside Lance’s building. “You okay, Miss Blakely?” he’d asked, but I ignored his call at my back. There was only one person I wanted to talk to right now. One person that would make all of this okay. Somehow, Decker Harris had become my safe haven, and I wanted nothing more than to wrap up in his comfort while I processed the terror coursing through my veins.

Tears were streaming down my face in a constant flow of agony. I had been looking forward to dinner with Dad, but I wasn’t expecting it to end like this. It seemed fitting that his past would steal him away from me before we could even get started. This was why I didn’t get close to people. It hurt too much when they let you down or left.

Even through all of this, I hated myself for making this about me. I was no better than Mama, taking other’s demons and wearing them like a cashmere scarf to show off. She’d brag about her misfortunes for sympathy, and I never wanted to be like that.

“Her father is in prison.”

“We barely have enough money for rent. I lost my job.”

“These medical bills are piling up. I’m dying, you know.”

Dad was in some serious danger, and all I could think about was how this would affect me. It felt too similar to her narcissistic behavior, and I wiped at my eyes to sever the thick disgust that filled me once I realized it.

I continued to furiously wipe at my face as I took the stairs up to Lance’s loft. I needed time to console myself and steady my emotions. I needed time to think about what we were going to do. Do I go to the police and risk ruining Dad’s parole? Do I trust Lance enough to go against Dad’s wishes and tell him?

Once at the door, I hovered my hand over the knob for another moment of self-pity before opening it. The first person I saw inside was Decker. He was sitting on the couch with his arm resting behind his head, slouching in the deep cushions while watching a game. I couldn’t even appreciate how handsome he looked with his tight shirt and jeans because I was so upset. “You’re home early,” he noted without looking at me. I peered around the loft for Lance and noticed that he wasn’t there. He was gone a lot lately.

They’re going to leave you too, the nagging voice in my head whispered.

“Where’s Lance?” I asked. My voice was audibly distressed, causing Decker to turn and stare at me.

“He went to go pick up a pizza and beer. What’s wrong?” Decker asked. He stood up and made his way over to me. He moved slowly like I was a wounded animal that would snap at him, and I pressed my back against the door, feeling the need for space. Decker stopped about a foot away and raked his eyes up and down my face, taking in my red eyes and tear-stained cheeks.

“I’m fine,” I whispered. I don’t even know why I was lying. Decker was like a magnet for truth; he pulled it out of me. The man was painfully inquisitive and to a T. He knew everything about me, without even asking. It was like my soul was an open book to this man, and it both infuriated and invigorated me.

“What happened with your dad?” Decker asked in a soft voice before taking another step closer. Within seconds, his hand was braced against the door, caging me in as he leaned even closer. Our noses brushed. Tears fell. My chest constricted, my stomach plummeted. I breathed in the smell of his cologne while staring up at him.

“These guys showed up at the restaurant,” I choked out, feeling partly guilty for already spilling Dad’s secret. He had warned me not to tell anyone, but I couldn’t bear this alone. There had to be an option other than just hiding and sending him on the run.

“What guys? Did someone hurt you?” Decker rushed out. His eyes turned dark with anger. I turned my head to stare at his arm and watched as the muscles in his forearm flexed. He used the one not caging me in to twist my gaze back to him. I couldn’t escape the honesty; Decker demanded it.

“No, no one hurt me. But they saw me. Dad got into some rough stuff while he