Page 7 of Wrecked
Eighteen hand-painted pink roses decorated the white-wash furniture.
Sixty-two pale yellow vertical and horizontal lines crisscrossed to create small squares on the green wallpaper.
I knew these things because I'd spent my night tossing and turning, and apparently, counting everything I could. Not even the melatonin I'd taken could keep me asleep for longer than an hour at a time.
At least I had one less thing to worry about. My potential client, Carly Williams, had agreed to reschedule our meeting. I rolled onto my side and huffed out a breath. Staring at the white curtains, I willed them to give me answers to the questions that floated around in my head.
Bzz Bzz
I clutched my chest and glared at my vibrating phone on the nightstand. A quick peek confirmed it was Dean calling… again. My heart drummed to a nervous rhythm, and instead of answering his call, I slipped out of bed and marched to the bathroom.
Pulling the curtain back, I reached inside the shower and turned on the faucet. While I slipped out of my shorts and cami, my tired reflection stopped me cold. After I curled my fingers around the smooth ceramic of the basin, I leaned forward and studied my appearance up close.
I looked as forlorn as I felt. Puffy cheeks and dark smudges beneath my eyes, evidence of my lack of sleep. I hadn't even bothered to wash my makeup off last night. I hadn't looked that pitiful since college, only then my scattered appearance had had nothing to do with sleep deprivation. A deep frown formed on my forehead and anger bubbled its way through my veins. Twelve years was a long time. Long enough to let go of your past.
Why the hell couldn't I let go then?
I shook my head and stepped beneath the scalding water. Tilting my head, I put my face directly in the path of the warm spray. Seconds morphed into minutes as I just stood and allowed the water to draw the stress from my limbs.
Eventually, I grabbed a sponge, cleaned myself and turned off the shower. It was when I was sitting on the bed, towel-drying my hair, that I realized Zoe was right.
I needed closure.
My heart could never fully let go of Brett because of that awful letter that just didn't resonate with the man I so passionately loved. The man who took the blame for me.
My cellphone buzzed to life again, giving me a heart attack in the process. Dropping the towel, I leaned over the bed to snatch my phone from the nightstand. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before I answered.
"Babe, where have you been?" Dean's voice greeted me. "I've been calling since yesterday."
Guilt ate at me because of my behavior. Dean was the kind of man that every woman wanted. He was handsome, came from a good family and along with his steady job, he had values I respected.
"I had car trouble and—"
"Yeah, I know," he cut in, sounding more hurt than angry. "Your dad phoned me last night."
After I'd taken a few minutes to decompress last night, I texted Zoe—who still hadn't responded—then I made a quick call to my parents. It didn't surprise me when they weren't happy with me. My mother was absolutely mortified when she learned I'd be spending a few nights in a place that didn't have room service. The only thing my father was worried about was whether we could get Carly to agree to see me at another time.
"Oh." I slipped off the bed and walked over to the drawn curtains. Delicately pulling them back, I peeked outside. "I didn't want to worry you," I answered weakly while I stared at Mrs. Davis's beautiful backyard. My attention was immediately drawn to the gazebo situated in the far left corner. With all the colorful flowers surrounding it, I bet there'd be tons of butterflies floating around.
"That makes no sense, Kenzie." Dean's voice sliced through my thoughts. "We're in a relationship, I should be your first call when you're in trouble." I imagined him running a hand through his blond hair—like he always did when he was at a loss. "This is about me asking you to move in with me, isn't it?" He added softly.
I let go of the curtain and turned so I could lean my back against the wall. With my index and middle fingers, I circled my temple repeatedly. "Dean, can we not do this now?"
A defeated sigh filtered through the line. "When will you be back?"
"I don't know."
"Do you want me to come there?"
"That's not necessary. Besides, don't you have to be in court on Monday?" Dean was a criminal defense lawyer, a good one too. So good, that he'd already made junior partner.
"Jonah knows the case like the back of his hand, he can lead."
I threw my head back and squeezed my eyes shut. "You've been preparing for this case for months. Dean, you should lead. And I'm pretty sure my car won't take that long, anyway."
"Kenzie," I spotted the smallest hint of anger in his voice. "Why do I get the feeling that you don't want me there?"
"It's not that, it's just—" I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling while I struggled to find the right words to say. A knock sounded, and I welcomed the out. "There's someone at the door, I'll call you later."
