Page 72 of Fierce Storm
SALVATORE: Where are you?
I have to stop myself from calling her or overpunctuating the text to show my frustration. She’s in her thirties and not my responsibility. I need to calm the fuck down.
KEELEY: I’m out
Goddammit, Keeley. I clench my fist and tap it against my lips, taking a deep breath through my nose.I don’t have to worry. I don’t have to worry.
SALVATORE: Are you having a good night?
My fingers stab the letters a lot harder than necessary while I say the words out loud, my teeth clenched.
KEELEY: I am, thank you
SALVATORE: Good. Who were you out with? Anyone I know?
Please tell me it was Paige. She mentioned something about wanting to sleep in tomorrow so that could be why.
KEELEY: Hayley, Amelia, Blair, and Paige. But they went home to their men
KEELEY: The guys on your team. Your players
KEELEY: I’m happy to report there are no players here tonight. Well, no SPORTS players. Wait, I guess the guys could be athletes, though I don’t recognize any. Maybe they’re rookies
Christ, she’s not just drinking, she’s drunk. And she’s texting me.
SALVATORE: …
KEELEY: Are you sure you want me to be single? There are a lot of fine-looking men here
Fuck. I have no right to want her to be any way—single or otherwise—but I don’t like where this is going.
SALVATORE: Don’t do something you regret in the name of pissing me off.
KEELEY: Believe it or not, I only do things for myself
I believe it. Still…pissing me off would bring her a lot of joy right now. I blow out a breath and stand, pacing the floor of my office, abandoning the glass of whiskey I never actually got to sip.What the fuck do I do here?
I pass my desk, and a photo of Paige comes into view.
Paige.
SALVATORE: Hey kiddo. Were you at the Westerly tonight? A friend thought he saw a photographer following you around. I wanted to check in.
PAIGE: It’s 1:30, Dad. You worry too much. But thank you. I wasn’t there. I was at The Satin Rose
She was where?I’ve never heard of that place. Even so…Thank you, Paige.
SALVATORE: Good. But I’ll always worry. That’s not going to stop anytime soon.
With a sigh, I sit back down and grab my glass of whiskey, a little of the tension leaving my body as I finally take a sip.
PAIGE: You need a girlfriend
I choke on the liquid, coughing a few times as I rub my chest.
I don’t need a girlfriend. Worrying about Paige is a full-time job, and now look at me worrying about Keeley.
I’m too old for this shit.
