Page 32 of Miss Matched

I lock my knees so they won’t buckle. Hold my breath and wait. Knowing—

He’s my client.

He’s unreachable.

He would hurt me.

The last thought echoes in my head and fits into the cutouts of everyone who walked away over the years, because no matter how much I will them to stay, people always go.

Stepping back, I untangle my fingers, and air whooshes back into my lungs. “We can’t,” I say. Words are lost on my tongue, and the room is moving on its axis.

Zac’s eyes blink, and I watch him break out of the trance that engulfed us. He draws back and releases my hands, moving so quickly that one moment he’s in front of me, and the next he’s not.

“Zac.”

“I’m sorry, Kennedy,” he says, avoiding my stare as he walks toward the door. “I shouldn’t have. I’ll have Tate come see you out.”

Zac’s here.

Then he’s gone.

And I’m alone like always.

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