Fight or Flight

“Okay.” I nodded. “I can do that. And so in that spirit I’m going to ask you if you’ve heard from Vince since he got out on bail?”

My friend glowered, but it wasn’t at me. “Yeah, he’s been calling. I finally answered the phone last night and told him that if he didn’t stop calling I’d file harassment charges to go along with the assault charges. And then I hung up. He hasn’t called again.”

“Good.”

Her sudden soft contemplation of me confused me. “What?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I just … I used to wonder about you. And Nick. After everything you told me about him, how much you used to love him, I could never really wrap my head around how you could just walk away from him even if he did cheat with Gemma. I never got it. How could you just stop loving someone because he made a mistake? I sometimes wondered if at first you were in denial about that … whether distance was really what made you get over him. I didn’t get it because there’s a part of me that still loves my mom.” Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “Not the mom I left behind but the mom of my childhood, you know. The one who loved me more than anything. I can’t make myself stop loving that mom. So I didn’t get it. You and Nick. But now I get it. His betrayal was a punch to the heart while Vince’s was literally a punch to the face. A moment so big that it kills every good feeling you ever had for them.”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Shouldn’t I feel that about my mom too?” She wiped angrily at her tears. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“No, there isn’t.” I moved back to her, needing to touch her, comfort her, my heart breaking because hers was. “It’s like you said … it’s Greta you love.” I referred to her mother by name. “It’s your childhood mom. And as far as I’m concerned, she is a different person from the woman you left behind.” I rubbed her back, trying to soothe her, and when her breathing seemed to even out again, I said as gently as possible, “Maybe you should think about talking to someone.”

Harper stiffened beneath my touch. “A shrink?”

“A therapist. Someone who can give you an unbiased, rational sense of perspective so you can stop blaming yourself for feelings that are only natural.”

She was silent so long I wondered if I’d made a very bad move by bringing up the subject.

But then she gradually relaxed against my touch and whispered, “Would you come with me? I know they won’t let you in but … you could wait outside for me?”

Tears of gratitude blurred my vision and I leaned down to kiss her forehead, the tears spilling over with the movement. “Anything, Harp. I’d do anything.”

“Love you, Ava,” she whispered, her voice hoarse with emotion.

“I love you too.”





Twenty-six


Once a few days had passed, Jason and I moved Harper back to her apartment, and I stayed with her the first night. While she’d been at Jason’s, I’d had someone replace her door with one even sturdier than the last. However, I also suggested she find a new place so she didn’t have to worry about the possibility of Vince dropping by. The suggestion was met with approval and we’d already toured two apartments she liked, including a studio in Caleb’s building. I didn’t tell her it was Caleb’s building because I was worried she wouldn’t move in if she was embarrassed by what he’d witnessed. But I liked the idea of her in that building with its tight security. Plus, I would just feel safer knowing Caleb was there if she ever needed his help.

Being busy with Harper meant I didn’t see Caleb for four days. We stayed in contact and I heard his frustration the last time he called. There was a part of me that could no longer deny that I hoped his frustration was more emotional than sexual—or at least both.

Harper was back at Canterbury, and with each passing day she worked more and more hours. She basically, according to Jason, oversaw the kitchen and unnecessarily bossed people around. But in her own words it made her feel human again, so Jason was allowing it, as long as it didn’t interfere with service.

Finally, Caleb and I agreed I’d come over to his apartment on Friday after work.

Caleb: Don’t wear any underwear. I’ve no patience for it tonight.



I’d laughed at that text, assuming he was joking. But then I began to wonder.

That was a joke. Right?



Twenty minutes later I’d received:

Caleb: Since when do I tell jokes?

I’m wearing underwear. Deal with it.

Caleb: Then wear cheap underwear.

I don’t own cheap underwear. And why?

Caleb: Because I’m going to rip it off.



Then …

Caleb: I’m supposed to go into a meeting in five minutes and I’m hard thinking about tonight.



A thrill of lust shot through me.

See you tonight.



Caleb: I hope you don’t have any plans tomorrow.



Why?

Caleb: Because I’m not letting you out of my bed for the next 48 hours.



Desire consumed me, making my cheeks hot.

Then I guess I do have plans. Very sexy plans with a hot Scot.

Caleb: Good. See you soon.



However, when Caleb’s apartment door opened later that evening, I wasn’t greeted by the hot Scot I was most looking forward to greeting.

Jamie let me into the apartment, giving me an apologetic smile. “Caleb’s running late. I said I’d wait around tae let you into the apartment.”

His usual uniform of T-shirt and jeans had been replaced by a dark navy shirt and suit trousers. I gave myself permission to acknowledge that Jamie was sexy as hell.

“Hot date?” I asked, following him into the living room.

He shrugged. “Just some bird I met at the gym. Said I’d meet her for drinks.”

Bird? Charming.

It almost made me not want to thank him, but he ultimately deserved my gratitude. “I don’t know if I said this before, but thank you for your help last weekend.”

Jamie grabbed his watch off the coffee table, and as he put it on he studied me beneath his lashes. When the watch was on, he straightened, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets and cocking his head in contemplation. “You thanked me already. You know … I misjudged you, Ava. I’m sorry.”

Remembering our first meeting, I nodded and crossed my arms in an unconscious defensive maneuver. “Why did you get all judgy with me when we met?”

“Because you reminded me of Carissa. Caleb’s ex-fiancée was just like you. Or so I thought. Well put together. Designer clothes. Into her looks and material shit that doesn’t matter. Everyone could see it but Caleb. He thought she had hidden depths, but the woman was a bloody kiddie pool.”

There was no way to describe what I felt in that moment. “Stunned” didn’t quite cut it. Neither did “hurt.” Or “angry” or “bitter.” I was all those things as Jamie continued talking as if he hadn’t delivered the epic, discombobulating news that Caleb Scott had once been engaged to be married.

“Carrie messed Caleb up. She really did. And there is something about you that reminds me of her.”

“Gee. Thanks.”

He held his hands up in defense. “I dinnae mean—Look, you just have that same quality about your physical appearance. But that’s where the similarities end. I saw that for real on Saturday night. You really care about your friend. And I think you really care about Caleb too. I dinnae think Carrie ever cared about anyone but herself.”

Ex-fiancée.

Carissa.

Carrie.

WHAT?!

“Anyway, I best get going. Make yourself at home. Caleb shouldn’t be long.”

I was barely aware of him leaving, my mind in chaos over the information bomb that had just exploded about my supposedly commitment-phobic friend with benefits.

Not even ten seconds after Jamie departed, the door opened again. I marched across the living room into sight of the door as Caleb shut it behind him and threw his keys into a bowl at the end of the kitchen counter. His lips started to turn up at the corners at the sight of me.

Then he saw my expression.