Bad Swipe

by Elise Faber

  You never knew me at all.

  Her words had echoed in his ear for the last hours, along with her smell filling his nose, her belongings in his sight.

  This dark corner was the only place he’d found peace. Where he couldn’t see her, scent her, remember her.

  Except, he had the feeling he would always remember her.

  “Fuck,” he whispered, taking another guzzle.

  It would be dawn soon, and he wanted to be black out drunk, to not remember, to—

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  His head snapped back, cracking against the TV stand, the bottle slipping from his grasp, pouring all over the floor.

  But he couldn’t be bothered to pick it up, couldn’t be bothered to do much of anything except ignore Claire as she strode toward him, her footsteps loud on the tile floor.

  “Did you bathe in that on purpose?”

  He flipped her off but didn’t otherwise answer.

  “Where’s Stef?” she asked.

  He kept his gaze determinedly on the buildings in the distance.

  “Where is Stef?” she repeated stubbornly.

  Well, he could be just as stubborn. Doubly so, if necessary. He clenched his teeth together and stared unseeing through the glass.

  “What did you do?” She kicked his foot, jarring him away from the window, causing him to jerk his gaze to his. “What the fuck did you do?” she snapped.

  “What I had to.” His voice was raspy, hardly distinguishable from a growl.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Stef sold me out.” He picked up the bottle. “So, I told her to go. I won’t sue her for damages. I can’t stomach that, not when—” He lifted it, sucked down some dredges. “I just can’t.”

  “You told her to go?” Claire asked icily. “I thought we’d all decided to wait and see what the investigation yielded.”

  He sniffed. “I knew how it would go.” Maybe if he got a straw, he could get the last little bit. “Knew it was the same as before.”

  Claire was suddenly in his face, knocking the bottle to the side. “It is nothing like before.”

  Something in her tone had the fog clearing slightly.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She gripped his shoulders. “It wasn’t Stef who sold you out. It was Spence. The audit team discovered that about two hours ago.” She shook him. “We said that we weren’t going to do anything until we knew. You fucking promised and—”

  “It was Spence?”

  Her nails dug into his shoulders. “Yes.”

  “Not Stef?”

  The pain from her grip focused him. “No. Not Stef.”

  Fuck. Fuck!

  It wasn’t Stef, and he’d said . . . oh fuck, he’d sent her away. He’d told her to go, and hadn’t been there like he’d promised, and—

  He stumbled to his feet.

  He needed to go find her, to apologize, to—

  Claire shoved him down. “Do you know what I received the moment I was out of that meeting? The moment I finally had a chance to breathe after spending the last sixteen hours working my ass off for you, for our company?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “I got a message from Stef saying that she didn’t steal from Hunt, and that she wanted me to know that, and that she would be sorry to lose my friendship, because even though she was just getting to know me, she liked me a lot.”

  She heaved him back against the wall. “So you, motherfucker, are not going anywhere. You are going to sit there, sober the fuck up, and figure out how to beg her for forgiveness.” A short, sharp breath. “And then you are going to come with me to the office so that we can be there when the lawyers and HR confront Spence.”

  He reached up, gripped his hair. “I fucked up.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  Scrambling to the coffee table, he grabbed his phone off it, dialed Stef’s number. It rang and rang and rang, but she didn’t pick up. He called again. It did the same thing. And the same on a third time. “Shit. Shit.”

  “Shut up,” Claire snapped, snatching the phone from his hand. “Just shut the fuck up, get in the shower, deal with this shit at work, and start thinking.”

  “About what?”

  “Finding some way to make this up to Stef, even if she doesn’t take your sorry ass back,” she said. “Because she deserves peace and a fucking apology.”

  She slammed the phone down on the table and walked to the elevator.

  “Eight. Fucking. O’clock.”

  She jabbed the button to call the metal car.

  “Don’t be late.”

  He was sober but felt like hell, even more so by the time he’d made it out of the meeting, his lawyers and HR department doing the heavy lifting.

  Spence had confessed.

  He might face criminal charges.

  He’d called and texted Stef dozens of times from the moment he’d realized the truth.

  But she hadn’t picked up, hadn’t called back.

  Not that he blamed her.

  He’d been . . . awful, worse than those who had hurt her.

  “Fuck,” he breathed, shoving out of the building and striding across the parking lot. He didn’t know what to do, how to get through to her. He just knew that he had to talk to her, to apologize, to try and make things right.

  He drove to her place, parked in the driveway, and got out of his car . . . just as she was limping up to her front door.

  In a walking boot.

  Shit. He’d forgotten that she had the appointment today.

  Hurrying out of the car, he moved up the path and got to her porch the same time that she did, taking the purse from her hands.

  She didn’t fight him, just let him unlock the door and hold it wide for her, as she moved inside. Didn’t say a word when he followed her in, when he closed the wooden panel behind himself.

  Didn’t say a word as Fred bounded over, just scratched his head and disappeared down the hall, the bedroom door clicking closed behind her.

  He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to make this right.

  So he waited in the hall, silently standing there and feeling like an intruder, and maybe he was.

  The door opened, Stef now in pajamas, and she slowed, as though surprised he was still there. But she still didn’t speak, only hesitated for a moment then moved into the kitchen.

  “How did you get to your appointment?”

  It was her right foot that was broken.

  “A Lyft.”

  Fuck.

  She turned away.

  “It was Spence,” he said.

  A flash of brown eyes before she looked away. “I’m sorry,” she murmured but didn’t say anything further as she reached into the fridge and pulled out a carton of milk, grabbing a bar of chocolate and a cup from a bag on the counter. She had gone out and bought groceries, a mug, because her belongings were at his house.

  And she was apologizing.

  He moved, trapping her between his body and the counter. She didn’t react, just broke off pieces of chocolate and placed them one by one into the mug. “I’m the one who should be saying sorry,” he told her. “I—I didn’t tell you all of my story before. I was engaged right when the company was taking off. She stole from me, from us, and . . .”

  “I see.”

  She poured milk into the mug, pushed against his arm, and placed the cup into the microwave.

  Still with her back to him, still hardly acknowledging his presence.

  “I assumed wrong, and I treated you . . .” He blew out a breath, stared down at his feet, wondering how he could make this right. “I was wrong.”

  “I forgive you.”

  Surprise had his eyes flying up. “You forgive me?”

  “I do.”

  But there was something off with her voice, with her expression.

  “I forgive, but I want you to leave. To not come back. To—”

  “Stef, no.”

  Her throat worked. “I can’t hat
e you because you showed me what I deserve from a relationship, and I forgive you because we all make mistakes. But I can’t have you in my life. You need to go.”

  “Stef,” he said, getting onto his knees, grasping onto her thighs. “I’m literally begging you to give me another chance. To let me be the man you deserve.”

  Silence as she studied his face closely.

  “No.”

  His heart sank.

  “Leave, Ben. And don’t come back.”

  He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to make this right, couldn’t treat this like a business deal that had gone this wrong, couldn’t salvage something this fucked, and he certainly didn’t have the words to ensure she gave him another chance.

  So, he did the only thing he could.

  He walked out the front door and left Stef to her life.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Stef

  The letter arrived the next morning, left on her front porch.

  But she didn’t open it.

  Just set it on the counter, met her Lyft out front, and went to work, her first day back in weeks.

  Heidi took one look at her and opened her mouth, but Stef merely lifted a hand and begged to give her an explanation another time. Preferably never, but she knew she wouldn’t be so lucky, so she just had to hope that it would hurt a little less by the time she was interrogated by her friend.

  Then she’d worked.

  Straight through breaks and lunch and all the way until it was time to leave. Heidi had only spoken to her about non-work stuff once, asking softly, “Are you okay?”

  To which she’d answered, “No, but I will be.”

  And when she got back home that evening, saw the letter on the counter, she read it . . . and it didn’t change anything. He’d explained more in depth about his former fiancée, who betrayed him and hurt his business right when it was just getting underway, but . . . it didn’t make one fucking bit of difference.

  Not when he’d thought she was capable of that.

  Not when she’d thought he was different, and he’d broken that trust.

  Not when . . . she had loved him and—

  So she forgave him because she understood how the past might hurt someone, might make it so damned difficult to live in the present . . . but she’d given him every part of her, and he’d thrown it back into her face.

  She wasn’t a punching bag. She deserved respect.

  One apology and a letter didn’t erase that.

  Flowers arrived the next day. Sunflowers, in fact, which were her favorite, of course. She’d expect nothing else of Ben, the sweet Ben, trying to win her over.

  She wanted to throw them in the trash.

  Because when would he become angry Ben again?

  Despite that, the cheerful yellow blooms stayed on her counter, and every time she looked at them, her heart melted a little bit.

  She hadn’t told him her favorite, but he’d found out.

  Stupid? Yes.

  But just because she kept the flowers didn’t mean she was going to let Ben back into her life.

  There was a car in her driveway.

  She wanted to ignore it, but the driver exited it the moment she stood on the porch, pausing to lock her door.

  “Ms. McKay?”

  Stef glanced up.

  “I’m to drive you to work.”

  She sighed, thought about arguing, but instead just canceled the Lyft she’d ordered, allowed the driver to assist her into the car, and accepted the ride.

  She didn’t want to be late.

  Chocolates and a fridge full of groceries.

  A new leash and collar for Fred.

  A Stargate script signed by the whole cast.

  The car at her disposal, every single day.

  And more flowers, so many sunflowers that her condo threatened to explode with them.

  But not her promised belongings.

  She only had the bag he’d packed, the minimal clothes, and when she had unblocked his number to ask him for the rest of her things, he’d said she was welcome to get them herself.

  She was welcome to go to his place and pack them up.

  Seriously?

  The balls on the man.

  She hadn’t responded.

  But he had.

  I love you.

  He’d sent that multiple times per day.

  Along with,

  I’m sorry. Please give me another chance.

  And both were punctuated with pictures of Sweetheart.

  She should have blocked his number again, but those pictures had her hesitating, and she didn’t reply to any of the messages, nor pick up the phone calls he made morning and night.

  Though she listened to the voicemails he left.

  Over and over again.

  Sick. She was absolutely sick.

  But she didn’t block him.

  Or throw out the sunflowers, the script. She ate the chocolates, used the leash, and when she came home from work to find the box on her porch, she nearly began crying.

  Because inside was a hoodie.

  One of Ben’s, the spiced scent in her nose, the worn material like velvet on her skin. She’d put it on, and hadn’t taken it off, hadn’t turned away the food he’d had delivered, nor the custom walking boot adorned with her name in pink glitter that arrived the next day.

  “Fuck,” she whispered, holding it close to her chest.

  Fred had jumped on the couch and cuddled close, and she knew that it was the hoodie. He’d gone crazy looking for Ben the night before, when she’d come in with the sweatshirt.

  She knew the feeling.

  “Oh, Ben,” she whispered, running her fingers over the boot. “What are you doing?”

  What was she doing? She was miserable without him, missed spending time with him, sitting on the couch, watching TV, eating together, making love, and staying up all hours of the night talking.

  But if she went back to him, accepted his groveling and apologies, what did that make her?

  She’d fought to be strong, fought to finally find her worth, and if she accepted back a man who’d talked to her like that, who’d kicked her out of his place without cause, without talking it through with her, then how could she say she was whole, that she was valuable and worthwhile?

  She couldn’t.

  She just . . . couldn’t.

  Sighing, she set the boot on the floor, curled up with Fred, and lost herself in the world of fantasy.

  It was so much better than real life.

  “All right,” Heidi snapped, tossing down her notebook. “We’re done for today. Everyone out.”

  They all froze and looked at each other, weighing her seriousness and judging it to be fierce. They’d had a shit day, experiments going wrong, data going missing.

  Because of Stef.

  Because she’d been up half the night trying to figure out if she could call Ben and thank him for the boot.

  Stupid, huh?

  Heidi cleared her throat, and she along with the interns, rose and move toward the door.

  “Not you.”

  Stef glanced up, saw her boss’s eyes fixed on hers.

  Fuck.

  The girls had come over a couple of days before, and she’d told them everything. They’d been suitably upset for her and absolutely furious at Ben. Including Claire, who’d surprised Stef by showing up at all, and who’d chimed in additional details as they’d all cursed all of Ben’s bad character traits.

  That had felt good—that they all were on her side.

  But it had also felt bad.

  Because she’d realized that for all the bad in that one moment in the penthouse, she’d missed their time together, missed . . .

  Ben.

  She missed him.

  There. She admitted it.

  Was that such a terrible thing?

  She kind of thought it was.

  “What are you doing?” Heidi asked, once everyone else had gone.

  Stef blink
ed, glanced up. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re absolutely miserable, but you haven’t even talked to him,” Heidi snapped, tossing up her hands as she moved around the lab table. “I mean, you’re in love with the man and he fucked up, but he’s spent the better part of the last two weeks trying to make it up to you.”

  “That—”

  “Doesn’t mean what he did was right,” Heidi said. “Of course, it doesn’t. But you’re miserable and he fucked up and he’s apologized. I want to flay him open for hurting you, but, babe, he’s trying to make it right.”

  Stef swallowed hard.

  “He’s going to mess up,” Heidi said. “That’s part of being a fucking human. But part of being a good person, a good man, is what he does in the wake of that.”

  Stef’s heart pounded, her pulse shuddering through her veins. She closed her eyes, letting Heidi’s words wash over her, remembering all the things Ben had done, both before and after that one horrific moment in the penthouse, remembering that moment, too.

  And how she hadn’t broken.

  How she’d stood up for herself.

  She could have done better, too, could have refused to leave, shouted and fought until he heard her.

  She’d left.

  But she also hadn’t withered and made herself small.

  Stef sank onto her stool as the realization struck home, echoing through every part of her—she wasn’t going to be that person again, the girl used by everyone.

  “No matter what,” she whispered. “I won’t be her again.”

  “No, you won’t,” Heidi said.

  Her eyes met her friend’s. “He messed up.”

  Heidi nodded. “He was an asshole,” she agreed. “Just like we all are sometimes, but you didn’t let him walk all over you.”

  “I didn’t,” Stef said. “And he’s trying to make it right.”

  “Plus, he’s doing it in glorious fashion,” Heidi said, her voice lightening. “He apologized with style, held nothing back, and he’s not giving up.”