Page 31 of Breaking Point

“It’s forlater!” I explain, smiling as I back away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ricky.”

“You’d better!” he calls, and I high-tail it out of there, swiping my keycard to let us inside.

I’m almost glad that my apartment doesn’t have an elevator because I can feel Crew looking at me, and I don’t particularly care to be locked in a box with him for several floors. Instead, I begin the climb, tearing my heels off my aching feet.

Another eventful wedding down in the books.

Crew follows, and part of me hates that he doesn’t even get a little winded by the fifth floor. My breath is heavy as we key into the flat.

Chesna happily waits on the credence table, and my heart warms when she leans into my touch. “Hi, Ches.”

She darts toward Crew, and I suppress a sigh. Crew tentatively reaches out a palm for her to arch into. The fact that she has a soft spot forhimmakes me want to pull my hair out.

“Ms. Hughes?” Crew’s voice stops me as I head toward my room.

“Yes?”

He’s quiet, contemplative, for long enough that I doubt whether he’ll continue. But finally… “The box. What was in it?”

I debate telling him. I have the impression that Crew Warden has already made up his assumptions about the kind of person I am.

A liar, for one. A spoiled brat, for two.

Giving was in my mother’s nature, but she never bragged about it… and admitting that I bought Ricky a new pair of boots feels a lot like bragging.

Years ago, I might have cared to explain myself. I might feel like I have something to prove. But I just don’t see the need any longer. Giving is the closest thing I have to remember Mom. When it comes to this week, the memory ofheris a living, beating thing inside me.

So I tell him, hating that I feel a blush creep up my neck as I do.

“You do that a lot,” he says quietly, the words enough to rattle me. “Hide.”

To anyone else, I’m an open book. But when it comes to him… Maybe I do. Any attempt at secrecy is fruitless. He’ll see through it anyways.

I consider Crew slowly, trying to figure out if the casual, aloof thing he’s got going is just a mask or not. But he merely watches me for a reaction.

He confuses me endlessly. Keeping things professional seems easy enough until I feel his eyes peel away the wall I’ve built for myself. Maybe that’s why we’ve always found ourselves on opposite sides of a line drawn in the sand… whether we’ve acknowledged it or not.

“How do you feel about a game of twenty-questions, Warden?”

He shrugs. “Sounds like a contrived attempt at conversation.”

“Conversation which you don’t feel the need for, I remember,” I say, ending on a laugh. “If you want me to answer your questions, you have to answer mine.”

A game. Or a trade of sorts. When he doesn’t say anything, I assume the conversation is over.

“Take it or leave it.” I turn on my heel, leaving the statement up to his interpretation.

He’s made his thoughts of me clear. Fine. But if he wants answers, he’ll have to play for them.

Chapter Fifteen

Olivia

“Do you think this dress makes my butt look big?” Eleanor asks aloud, gazing at the pool of white fabric at her feet in the shop mirrors.

The fitted dress clings to her modest curves, the lace glittery and distracting. I’ve spent the better part of a day following Eleanor in and out of bridal shops. I had a feeling she’d be more indecisive than most, hence the need to get the shopping out of the way. People tend to forget how much time fitting and altering a dress actually takes.

Behind me, Taylor clears his throat, prompting me to speak after another quiet moment lulls by.

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