Page 9 of His Relentless Angel

And though it’s tempting, I gently nudge her away and through the open door. “Goodbye, Bailey.”

“But…what about last night?” When I don’t say anything, she stands tall and looks me straight in the eye. “I love you, Isaiah.” She waits for me to say it back, and when I don’t, she bites down hard on her bottom lip. Her keys slip from her hand, and when she bends to pick them up, I close and lock the front door.

Normally, I would wait at the top of the stairs, only going inside after my friends make it into their cars and pull out of the lot, but I can’t do that with Bailey. I’m not sure I’d be able to resist grabbing her, the same as I did last night, then hauling her back inside.

I do watch her from the window as she stares at my front door from her car like she wants to climb the stairs for a long time before she finally leaves. I can’t look at myself in the mirror after I heat the shower when I know what’s going to happen next. There’s no help for it. Not after I spot her white panties hanging over the glass door, which she more than likely left behind on purpose—another one of her schemes.

Soaping up her panties in my hand, I work my fist up and down my dick to the memory of Bailey untying the straps of her dress to pull the fabric down. Those thirty seconds play on repeat, and it takes me less than three minutes of stroking my shaft to orgasm, catching my cum with her panties, imagining I’m spraying it on her perfect tits instead.

Disgusted with myself, I know what I have to do now after accepting with finality that Bailey isn’t going to give up her hopes of us being together. I’ve been avoiding it since I love my life here. I love my friends and my home. I love my game nights and playing disc golf in the early, dewy mornings with Sherman after he got me into the sport. I love getting to hold and play with James and Shayla’s kids. But none of that matters after what I’ve done.

After drying off and getting dressed, I call my boss on the drive to the closest box store, letting her know I have to take a few days off from work since I won’t have internet. Thankfully, we’re ahead on our new software development project, so it won’t be an issue. Once I get home, I lug everything inside and build a mountain of boxes, then stuff every single one of them until my condo is as empty as me.

I’m leaving.

And it’s going to break both our hearts.

Chapter 5

Bailey

I hate that I had to go back to school after my emotional roller coaster of a night with Isaiah. It was both the worst and best night of my life. The morning after, when he closed the door in my face instead of confessing that he loves me, too, was sobering.

The small bed in my dorm room is no substitute for Isaiah’s luxurious, honey-scented king-sized bed. And it’s almost impossible to put thoughts of him aside to get through my classes for even just one second. I hate that he continues to ignore my text messages, even after the way he kissed me. I thought for sure he’d finally respond now that I’m eighteen, but it’s been crickets. Still, I have hope. Positive thoughts only.

Me: I’m coming home for the weekend

Me: Can I come over?

Me: I really need to see you

Me: Please, Isaiah

Me: I love you

I drive straight to his condo, even though Daddy said he wanted me to come home right away. He lectured me long enough about safety the morning after my birthday and once again wanted me to promise to leave Isaiah alone, which I will never do, so we didn’t part on the best of terms.

My heart beats about a million times a minute as I smooth out my long, loose hair and touch up my undereye concealer. There’s no hope for the redness in my eyes as I held back tears the whole drive after checking my phone for the umpteenth time, wishing Isaiah would finally respond.

I climb the stairs to Isaiah’s unit and knock on the door, hands fluttering along the fabric of the white and blue dress I wore the last time I was here. “Please, Isaiah, open the door.” I knock again. And again. And again, finding it harder to remind myself to think positively.

Me: I’m here

Me: Please open the door

Me: I really, really need to see you

Me: Please

I spend five minutes knocking and waiting before I turn and sit cross-legged on his stoop with my back against the door. Then I spend another twenty minutes staring at my phone, then staring at his Lexus, then my phone again.

I get a strange look from the two neighbors who exit the unit on Isaiah’s left, and I give them a watery smile. When the neighbors climb into Isaiah’s black Lexus, I stumble to my feet.

“Hey! That’s not your—” And then I see it. The car has a different license plate that I somehow missed. When they back out of the parking spot and turn, I notice for the first time the MS150 decal stuck to the lower right corner of their back windshield.

That’s not Isaiah’s car. He’s not here.

Relieved by the fact that he’s not just ignoring me, I dust off the back of my dress and drive home. When I let myself in, Daddy sits forward in his recliner facing the door, mimicking Isaiah on the couch last weekend. Mom crosses her legs, rearranging her long skirt, and her top foot jiggles nervously from her seat on the cushion closest to Daddy. His bushy brows are pulled down in the middle, and Mom reaches across the short distance between them to hold his hand.

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