Unsuitable
Page 62
Twenty-Eight
It’s late. Close to midnight. I’m in my pajamas, ready for bed, and I’m in the bathroom, brushing my teeth. My eyes are puffy from all the crying I’ve done, and I’m feeling emotionally drained.
Cece is already in bed. She turned in about half an hour ago. She spent all night trying to make me feel better. Not that much is going to make me feel better, apart from Kas, and it’s not likely that’s going to happen.
I haven’t heard from him.
I tried to ring him once I got home after Cece picked me up, but the call went unanswered. When I tried calling again, I got voice mail, telling me that he’d turned off his phone.
I left a voice mail, apologizing again and asking him to call me—well, I might have pleaded for him to call me.
I also sent a text, just in case he decided to ignore the voice mail. Of course, he can also ignore the text, but at least I’ll know when he’s read it.
Not that he’s read it yet. I might have checked once or twice…or a hundred times.
I spit out into the sink and rinse my brush under the running tap. I’ve just put my toothbrush into the holder when someone starts banging on our front door.
Cece comes out of her room, and at the same time, I exit the bathroom. She’s all wide-eyed. I think my expression mirrors hers.
“Who the hell is that?” she asks.
“I have no clue.”
“Daisy!” a voice hollers through the front door.
My body jolts in shock, and my heart starts to hammer in my chest.
“It’s Kas,” I whisper to Cece. Why I’m whispering, I have no clue. “What do you think he wants?”
And how the hell did he get in the building without being buzzed in? So much for building security.
“I’d suggest opening the door and finding out.”
“Funny.” I give her an unamused stare.
Maybe he’s come here to yell at me some more—or worse, fire me.
He bangs on the door again. “Daisy, open the door!” His words are slurred. He sounds drunk.
“You’d better answer the door before he wakes the whole building up,” Cece says with a grin in her eyes.
“Shit,” I mutter. Then, I quickly make my way through our apartment and to the front door.
Reaching it, I inch up onto my tiptoes and look through the peephole just to be sure. And, yep, Kas is on the other side of my door.
Bracing myself, I unlock the door and pull it open.
I smell the alcohol on him first. Then, I notice he’s still in the clothes he was wearing earlier.
“Daisy,” he slurs. It comes out sounding like Duh-easy. He steps through the open doorway and practically falls on top of me.
“Jesus, Kas.” It takes all my strength to hold him up.
His hands grab around my waist as he buries his nose in my hair. “You smell so fucking good,” he murmurs into my hair. “I don’t deserve you, but you smell so fucking good.”
He’s really drunk. Reaching out my leg, I kick the front door shut.
Taking ahold of his hands on my waist, I peel them off and step back, still holding his hands because I’m worried he might fall over. I stare into his face. His eyes are half-shut and glazed.
“Let’s get you to sit down, and I’ll make coffee.”
“Don’t want coffee.” He frowns. “Just want you.”
He wants me.
My heart lurches.
He’s drunk, Daisy. Drunk people often say things they don’t mean.
He lurches forward again, and I catch hold of him. His head falls to my shoulder, his forehead pressing to my bare skin. I feel his body tremble.
“I never wanted you to know.” His words are soft but choked.
Then, I feel wetness on my skin.
Tears.
Jesus, fuck.
I feel sick.
“I’m so sorry, Kas. So sorry.” Tears blur my eyes. I press my hand to the back of his head, holding him to me, as I wrap my other arm around him.
His face slides into the hollow of my neck, his even breaths hot against my skin.
“It was my fault,” he mumbles. “If I’d been stronger…fought harder…she’d still be alive.”
Haley.
Pain clamps down on my chest and twists my gut.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting tears. “Shh…” I soothe, running my hand over his head. “It’s going to be okay, Kas. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“It’s already too late,” he says, his lips brushing against my skin.
“Too late?” I whisper.
“For Haley…and for me.”
What do I say?
You’re still here. She’s gone. But you are still here, and I care about you.
I can’t say that, so instead, I say, “It wasn’t your fault, Kas.”
He draws in a shuddering breath. “You don’t know anything.”
“So, tell me. You can talk to me.”
Pulling from my hold, he lifts his eyes to mine. They’re still glazed with alcohol. “You don’t want to know.”
“If you want to tell me, then I want to know.”
He turns from me, eyes on the wall, and his body sways. “You don’t want to get involved with me. I’m not a good man, Daisy.”
He’s said that to me before.
“Yes, you are,” I argue.
“No, I’m not.” His voice sounds so sure. He turns his head to look at me. “I’m a fucking monster, Daisy. Not like those bastards, but a monster all the same. The things I’ve done…”
It’s late. Close to midnight. I’m in my pajamas, ready for bed, and I’m in the bathroom, brushing my teeth. My eyes are puffy from all the crying I’ve done, and I’m feeling emotionally drained.
Cece is already in bed. She turned in about half an hour ago. She spent all night trying to make me feel better. Not that much is going to make me feel better, apart from Kas, and it’s not likely that’s going to happen.
I haven’t heard from him.
I tried to ring him once I got home after Cece picked me up, but the call went unanswered. When I tried calling again, I got voice mail, telling me that he’d turned off his phone.
I left a voice mail, apologizing again and asking him to call me—well, I might have pleaded for him to call me.
I also sent a text, just in case he decided to ignore the voice mail. Of course, he can also ignore the text, but at least I’ll know when he’s read it.
Not that he’s read it yet. I might have checked once or twice…or a hundred times.
I spit out into the sink and rinse my brush under the running tap. I’ve just put my toothbrush into the holder when someone starts banging on our front door.
Cece comes out of her room, and at the same time, I exit the bathroom. She’s all wide-eyed. I think my expression mirrors hers.
“Who the hell is that?” she asks.
“I have no clue.”
“Daisy!” a voice hollers through the front door.
My body jolts in shock, and my heart starts to hammer in my chest.
“It’s Kas,” I whisper to Cece. Why I’m whispering, I have no clue. “What do you think he wants?”
And how the hell did he get in the building without being buzzed in? So much for building security.
“I’d suggest opening the door and finding out.”
“Funny.” I give her an unamused stare.
Maybe he’s come here to yell at me some more—or worse, fire me.
He bangs on the door again. “Daisy, open the door!” His words are slurred. He sounds drunk.
“You’d better answer the door before he wakes the whole building up,” Cece says with a grin in her eyes.
“Shit,” I mutter. Then, I quickly make my way through our apartment and to the front door.
Reaching it, I inch up onto my tiptoes and look through the peephole just to be sure. And, yep, Kas is on the other side of my door.
Bracing myself, I unlock the door and pull it open.
I smell the alcohol on him first. Then, I notice he’s still in the clothes he was wearing earlier.
“Daisy,” he slurs. It comes out sounding like Duh-easy. He steps through the open doorway and practically falls on top of me.
“Jesus, Kas.” It takes all my strength to hold him up.
His hands grab around my waist as he buries his nose in my hair. “You smell so fucking good,” he murmurs into my hair. “I don’t deserve you, but you smell so fucking good.”
He’s really drunk. Reaching out my leg, I kick the front door shut.
Taking ahold of his hands on my waist, I peel them off and step back, still holding his hands because I’m worried he might fall over. I stare into his face. His eyes are half-shut and glazed.
“Let’s get you to sit down, and I’ll make coffee.”
“Don’t want coffee.” He frowns. “Just want you.”
He wants me.
My heart lurches.
He’s drunk, Daisy. Drunk people often say things they don’t mean.
He lurches forward again, and I catch hold of him. His head falls to my shoulder, his forehead pressing to my bare skin. I feel his body tremble.
“I never wanted you to know.” His words are soft but choked.
Then, I feel wetness on my skin.
Tears.
Jesus, fuck.
I feel sick.
“I’m so sorry, Kas. So sorry.” Tears blur my eyes. I press my hand to the back of his head, holding him to me, as I wrap my other arm around him.
His face slides into the hollow of my neck, his even breaths hot against my skin.
“It was my fault,” he mumbles. “If I’d been stronger…fought harder…she’d still be alive.”
Haley.
Pain clamps down on my chest and twists my gut.
I squeeze my eyes shut, fighting tears. “Shh…” I soothe, running my hand over his head. “It’s going to be okay, Kas. Everything’s going to be okay.”
“It’s already too late,” he says, his lips brushing against my skin.
“Too late?” I whisper.
“For Haley…and for me.”
What do I say?
You’re still here. She’s gone. But you are still here, and I care about you.
I can’t say that, so instead, I say, “It wasn’t your fault, Kas.”
He draws in a shuddering breath. “You don’t know anything.”
“So, tell me. You can talk to me.”
Pulling from my hold, he lifts his eyes to mine. They’re still glazed with alcohol. “You don’t want to know.”
“If you want to tell me, then I want to know.”
He turns from me, eyes on the wall, and his body sways. “You don’t want to get involved with me. I’m not a good man, Daisy.”
He’s said that to me before.
“Yes, you are,” I argue.
“No, I’m not.” His voice sounds so sure. He turns his head to look at me. “I’m a fucking monster, Daisy. Not like those bastards, but a monster all the same. The things I’ve done…”
