She pursed her lips. “And I see you’re not falling for my charm like you used to. Doesn’t matter. I’ll send Dillon over for his Taser. I’m out of here.” Disappointment colored her tone as she marched out with her head held high.
I’d chased her like I had when we were kids, and she was mad at me. A warm feeling spread through my chest at the notion some things between us hadn’t changed. Only now she was even more beautiful when she didn’t get her way. “Lizzie?”
She stopped feet from the front door, not bothering to turn around.
“I really would like to help you. I know your boyfriend can, but I know important people in this city.” I could ask Chloe’s dad to help. He’d been instrumental in helping Lacey and her father when Lacey had been kidnapped, and he had connections within the BPD.
“I’m good.” Her voice wavered.
All of a sudden, I felt like a schmuck. Okay, I was. I wasn’t good at handling women who cried. I wasn’t like Kade. He always had the right words to say or knew the right thing to do when Lacey cried or she was having one of her PTSD blackouts. I’d experienced her having one of them in high school when her house had been broken into. It had gutted me.
“You can have the Taser back.” I removed it from my pants.
“I don’t need it now. But thank you,” she said sweetly, making her way to the door.
“Lizzie.”
She spun around, a tear cascading down her cheek.
Daggers stabbed at my heart. When we were kids, I had beaten any boy who’d made her cry. “My mom would like to see Gracie.”
Another tear trickled down. Then she ran out the door.
A slow burn of anger and frustration steamrollered through me as I ran after her. I was fuming at myself for being a dickwad, but I was also irritated that she hadn’t answered me and angry she was always running away from me.
“Lizzie,” I shouted as my feet hit the brick sidewalk. “I do want to help.”
I stopped as she sprinted away. Well, if she didn’t want my help, then maybe Dillon could shed some light on what the fuck was going on in Lizzie’s life.
12
Lizzie
In the half-bath at Dillon’s, I shoved my wig and contacts into my backpack then glanced in the mirror. Either the room was too small or I was developing a nasty case of claustrophobia as I tried to catch my breath. Mascara smudged the underside of my eyes. My nose could pass for Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, and the whites around my blue-gray eyes were redder than a tomato. I was one hot mess. I’d been crying since Dillon had picked me up over an hour before. As soon as I’d gotten in the car he’d asked, “Did anyone physically hurt you?” When I’d said no he hadn’t pried any further.
My mind skipped from one thing to the next and back, repeating like a broken record. My money was probably gone, Kelton’s mom wanted to see Gracie, and I wanted Kelton to wrap his arms around me and tell me everything would be okay like he did when we were kids.
Anger, fear, sadness, despair, and pity all yanked at my heart, jabbed at my stomach, and caused my hands to tremble. “What are you afraid of?” I whispered into the mirror.
Everything. Life. Being alone. Love. Kelton. His family. Before I’d arrived in Boston my only fear had been not getting my money back. Now the list was growing at a rapid rate.
“Fear is good,” my dad had said. “It gets the blood pumping. Rising above your deepest fears makes you a better person.”
I wasn’t so sure. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself, clear the blinders, go out and fight for what’s yours.” I laughed at my own words as a tear trickled down my cheek.
A knock sounded. “Lizzie, are you okay?” Dillon asked.
“Yeah. I’ll be right out.” I let the faucet run a second before I splashed cold water on my face. I ripped off two squares of toilet paper then cleared the black around my eyes. After I’d cleaned up, I fluffed my hair, pinched my cheeks for color, and met Dillon in the kitchen.
“Cool?” He poured tea into a mug that had Best Friend inscribed on the side.
I folded myself onto the bench with my back to the window. I didn’t care to look out into the dreary day. He set the mug down along with a sugar bowl, his brown eyes assessing me. Then he sat opposite me, a few strands of his hair toppling forward.