Page 126 of The Storm

“What are you—” I narrow my eyes. “How are you here?”

He gives a sort of helpless shrug. “I have a job here. It’s new. I?—”

“No.” The word comes out harsh and I shake my head. “No. How are youhere? In front of this building. In front ofmybuilding.” It takes me off guard. Completely. I fucking hate it.

He studies me quietly, so much more composed than I remember.

“I called Dia,” he says. “I guess I wanted confirmation that I didn’t imagine you. I thought…” He looks away then—a small moment of insecurity. “I thought you were in Chicago.”

The city hangs between us with all he leaves unsaid as baggage.

You went without me.Chicago was supposed to be our plan. You went ahead and did it without me.

My jaw tightens.

We don’t owe each other any explanations. We don’t owe each other anything at all.

Doesn’t stop me from demanding answers.

“Dia knows where I live. Bridget too. You’re really trying to tell me you didn’t know?”

He lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah, most of our conversations revolve around you, actually. I just can’t get enough. You should see us. I’m all, ‘Hey, Di. Remember that guy who hates my guts? What’s he up to these days? Spare no detail.’”

There he is.

Bite him, and he bites back.

My Blue.

Oh fuck no. No! Absolutely no part of him is mine. Not anymore. Not after everything.

Silence stretches between us until he exhales on a deep sigh. “She wants us to figure our shit out. Dia. She’s your sister. Technically, she’s mine too. In a way. She wants us to… get along, I guess? Be friends. So this is pretty much her trying to push us to talk, I figure.” He sighs again. “I don’t know. Take this as a courtesy or something. I know you don’t want to see me, so if she ever invites you over to hang out, it’s most likely a setup.”

“Is that why you’re here?” I ask.

He sets his jaw, and his eyes flash with annoyance.

“I’m here because I need a job and Bridge has a client who needs a babysitter.”

I frown. Bridget is a sports agent. She only has a handful of clients, most of them up and coming, fresh-out-of-college dudes with ambition that I highly doubt involves having kids any time in the near futu?—

Wait.

Yeah, I’m fucking dumb.

Babysitting in this case will not be for an actual child. Although it might as well be.

“She roped you into working for Callum Mercer?” I ask.

He narrows his eyes.

Neither of us says anything for a bit. The tension is thick enough that I’m surprised it hasn’t taken a physical form.

“You can’t take that job,” I say.

His brows rise higher. “That’s none of your business, is it?”

I shake my head. “I’m serious. Find something else.”