Page 79 of Kylo
Huck and his people had several more questions about Marco, about his crew, and about the exact names of the suppliers and distributors I was using.
“We might be in touch again,” Huck said when he had no more questions.
I slowly got to my feet.
“Fine,” I ground out. “But don’t ever send him again.”
I jerked my head toward Kylo but couldn’t make myself look at him.
“Or I will tell Marco exactly who you are, where to find you, and that you’re looking to take him down.”
With that, I strode toward the front of the house, proud of how calm my gait was when my insides felt like they were trembling.
I made it to the door, both relieved and devastated that Kylo didn’t rush up behind me, try to stop me, or attempt to explain.
Not that there was anything he could say to make this better.
But my heart ached for him to be sorry, to beg for forgiveness, to give some sign that this wasn’t all just a job, just a way to get close to me to get information.
Tears stung my eyes as I threw open the door.
The night air was soupy and hard to breathe as I walked calmly out of sight, then broke into a run around the back of the assisted living center, where I opened the app and ordered a ride.
I stood there, my insides shaking, my heart breaking, but holding it together as I waited for the driver, then got dropped off at Kylo’s.
The lights were off, and there were no signs that he might be around, but I still ran to get in my car, then reversed out so fast I nearly took out one of the neighbors’ mailboxes.
It wasn’t until I pulled into my driveway that the dam finally broke.
I didn’t even recognize the pained animal sound that escaped me, something a mix between a scream and a sob that echoed back to me in the small space as my head slammed into the steering wheel while the tears flowed down my cheeks.
If I thought the crying session I’d had in Kylo’s arms the night of the last delivery was bad, it didn’t even hold a candle to how I broke down there alone in my driveway.
I wasn’t even sure how I got inside, or when.
I just knew I damn near had to crawl toward my bedroom.
I fell into bed, curled up, and just let the grief consume me.
Because I thought he was different, that he understood me, that he wasn’t scared off by my struggles with my mental health.
But no.
No, that wasn’t it at all.
He just had no choice. He had to stick with me.
Hell, he probably wasn’t kind or understanding at all. He was just playing me. Toying with my emotions. Making me trust him. Making me like him. And, after all that stuff at the hotel, making me maybe—just maybe—start to fall for him.
I cried myself slowly to sleep.
Then I woke up and cried some more.
I called out of work just to cry some more.
I thought the tears might never dry up.
Until, sometime that next night, they did.
