His brows crash together. “Jesus,” he barks. “Just what is it that you want from me?”
“Nothing!” I yell. “I didn’t ask for any of this! You were the one who kissed me—both times! Then, you acted like a total head case afterward! And I told you that I wouldn’t talk about this with you! So, stop following me!”
I stamp my heel, and then I turn and start to walk away. I make it to the utility doorway when his voice stops me.
“I don’t know how to do this.”
It’s not just the words. It’s the way his voice sounded when saying the words—helpless.
It surprises me because helpless is never a word I would have thought in relation to Kas. Arrogant, overly confident, and a giant pain in my arse. But never helpless.
I slowly turn back to him. He looks defenseless and lost. It’s in the pull of his dark brows. In the tightening around his eyes. The downturn of his lips.
It tugs on something inside my chest, curling around my heart.
“You don’t know how to do what?” I ask in a quiet voice.
“This.” He gestures at the space between us.
“I don’t understand.” I gently shake my head.
“Relationships,” he says, frustrated, instantly getting my back up. “I don’t fucking know how to do relationships.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh. “I’m not asking you for a relationship. Jesus Christ! We kissed—twice. You went cold and walked out on me—twice. End of story.”
“I don’t want it to be the end.” His words are soft with meaning, but I can’t feel it right now. I’m too raw.
“I don’t care what you want. Just like you didn’t care what I wanted both times you walked out on me. There’s only so much rejection and humiliation that one person can take, and I’ve reached my fill. At work, we’ll talk when necessary and be cordial. But, aside from that, I’m done, Kas.”
Something that looks a lot like unrest and frustration and hurt enters his gaze.
I ignore his pain and focus on my own.
He wraps his arms around his chest, moving his stance. “If that’s what you want,” he says quietly.
I laugh, and it sounds as empty as I feel.
Yeah, this is what I want. Because I was the one who caused all this—not.
Sighing, I shake my head and pass him to leave the kitchen.
When I reach the door, I stop.
He’s facing away from me.
“Oh, and just so you know, I’m going out with Cooper tonight, just in case you wanted to let the horses out again.”
I see his shoulders tense before I turn and walk out of there.
My feet hit the stairs, and I’m already regretting my parting shot. It was petty and hurtful, and I shouldn’t have said it. But he just gets under my skin like no other. And it’s too late now. It’s not like I’m going to go downstairs and tell him that I am actually canceling my date with Cooper.
But then I’m sure he’ll hear that on the grapevine soon enough.
When I reach the second floor, I realize that all of my cleaning products are downstairs in the utility room that I never made it to.
Bugger.
Well, I’m not going back down there now in case he’s still in the kitchen.
I’ll strip the beds first, and by the time I’m done and ready to wash the bedding, he should be in his office, and I’ll be safe to go downstairs.
I walk into his bedroom and see that his bed is made.
Knowing that Kas never makes his bed, I know that he hasn’t slept in it. That leaves an uneasy feeling in my gut.
Maybe he hooked up with someone else at the club after he walked out on me…
Nope. Not even going to go there.
I throw the duvet cover back and pick up a pillow with a little more force than necessary.
Kas’s scent is all over it.
Ugh.
I tug off the pillowcase and angrily toss the pillow behind me.
I hear a thud.
Crap.
Turning, I see that I knocked over a glass of water that was on his nightstand.
“Perfect,” I mutter angrily to myself.
Water spilling everywhere, I dash into Kas’s bathroom and grab a towel before jogging back into his room.
Fortunately, the only other thing on the nightstand is the lamp, so cleaning up the spillage isn’t too difficult. I lift the lamp, drying off the base. Then, I wipe down the sides of the nightstand and dry off the water that hit the carpet.
I notice the top drawer is slightly ajar.
Worried water might have gotten inside, I pull it open and dry off the lip of the drawer, eyes checking the contents.
All looks good.
Then, my eyes snag on a photograph that’s tucked down the side.
I pick it up. I notice that something is written in cursive on the back.
HALEY HALLIWELL. PROM. 2009.
I turn the photo over in my hands. Staring back at me is a pretty girl.
Really pretty.
She looks young. Maybe eighteen. Long blonde hair that’s curled around her shoulders. She’s wearing a stunning pink dress that goes to her ankles, and she has silver heels on her feet.
And she’s wearing a huge, bright beaming smile on her face, her eyes shining with happiness.
It’s a smile of adoration…of love. And it was clearly meant for whomever was standing behind the camera.
Kas.
I know because I recognize the garden she’s standing in.
She was smiling for Kas.
I feel a pang in my chest. A pang called jealousy. I press my hand against it, trying to rub it away.
It’s ridiculous to feel jealous over a photograph, I know. It just bothers me that Kas cared enough about this Haley girl to make her smile…to make her happy.