Best (Change Series Book 3)

by Melanie Jayne

  “Classy.” She tapped my mug with hers and took a sip.

  I went for a brownie.

  “Did you grow up here?” She cuddled her mug with both hands while it rested on the table in front of her.

  After swallowing my brownie, said, “Army brat. Went to Vanderbilt in Nashville for my undergrad and to law school here. Forde was already working in the city, so I followed him.”

  “I grew up outside of San Diego then L.A., went to college at Arizona.” She continued looking at the mug.

  “A West Coast girl,” I prompted, wanting to know more.

  “I worked in two different towns in northern California, and then I moved to Florida. I guess I have moved around some.” She shrugged.

  “Then was it Denver?”

  Her brow furrowed. “I didn’t want to stay in Florida,” she said, more quietly now, “and going back to L.A. with my mom was out of the question. Luckily, my friend’s parents were having trouble selling their place in Denver. I jumped at the chance to move.” She seemed lost in her thoughts.

  “Things happen for a reason,” I offered.

  “Sometimes.”

  I could tell that whatever she was thinking about had nothing to do with what was happening here. She’d changed before my eyes and looked like a ghost. Whatever she was remembering wasn’t pleasant. I wanted the smiling Billie back. “So, how are you with a jammed copier?”

  She raised her head and looked at me, blinking several times. “I’m pretty good.” She held up her hand. “Little hands and long fingers. I can usually dig out the tiny bit of paper that causes the sensors to go nuts.” Then she smiled.

  “I’m going to warn you right now, my people jam our machine all of the time. I feel like I should invite the guy they always send out to fix it to our office holiday party.” I smiled, because she was back with me, eyes sparkling.

  “That bad?”

  “I’m going to bribe Forde into sending you over as my first line of defense.”

  “Maybe we should be discussing what you’re going to offer me as a bribe?”

  “I don’t think it’ll be a bottle of champagne.” I noticed she hadn’t taken another drink. “Don’t you like it?”

  Her mouth opened, and then she closed it quickly. “Oh, no. This is fine, I mean, it’s really good. I’m driving, and I don’t usually drink.”

  “One of the guys can drive you home.” I figured she’d be included in what I referred to as the “Limited Transpo” service.

  She shook her head. “Oh, no. I couldn’t. I just got the job a few hours ago.”

  Something about the way she didn’t want to take advantage of the guys, pleased me. Most of the women I met expected perks.

  “In fact, I should be going.” She stood.

  “There you are.” Layla entered the kitchen and put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “I started to clean up, and then Tye helped, and now we’re having brownies.” Billie was adorable. She looked like we’d been caught fucking on the table. Her cheeks were pink, and her posture tense.

  “Tye, you can take those home with you. God knows with Ryan here, he’ll be baking enough to feed an army.” Layla’s voice was full of warmth when she talked about her stepson.

  “Thanks.” I started to get up, too.

  “Thank you for the help.” Billie smiled then turned her attention to Layla. “I need to go. It’s getting late.”

  “You don’t have to,” Layla told her.

  “I do, really.” Billie headed to the living room.

  I followed the women. As Billie said her goodbyes, I noticed Tony was standing by the front door.

  I approached him. “Need any help packing up Livy’s stuff?” I’d learned that baby’s did not travel light.

  “I think we’re good. I’m gonna walk Billie to her car,” he said, his gaze tracking her.

  “I can do that.”

  “Not tonight.” Tony wasn’t backing down, and that was peculiar. The whole thing seemed off. The building had excellent security, and I’d never heard Zoe or Layla mention any concerns. However, Tony wasn’t someone I’d push over something as innocuous as seeing a lady to her car.

  Chapter Nine

  Billie

  My first month at Limited passed smoothly. Now, I’m not going to claim I didn’t make my share of mistakes, but I was proud of the fact I never repeated the same one. Layla was a good teacher, and I think that now she only stopped in because she didn’t know what to do with her free time. The good news was that Ryan was in town again, so he kept her occupied.

  On Tuesdays, I left at three-thirty, no matter what appointments were scheduled, so that I could see Dr. Kimball. Nobody asked any questions. Forde had an easygoing management style, and as long as I texted my plan to leave, nobody interfered.

  I also joined a gym, and now took a yoga class after work one night a week. Long ago, I’d accepted that I was never going to lose my extra padding. I was built like my aunt, and we carried our weight in our hips and thighs, but I wanted to work out to feel healthier. During my recovery, I’d lost muscle tone, so I wanted to feel stronger. Just in case…

  I was so busy that most nights I dropped off to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I still had nightmares, or I would wake up felling panicked, but I hadn’t experienced another attack like the one I had with Tony in the parking lot. This was a new record for me. I hoped I had turned the corner and those excruciating events had come to an end.

  Unfortunately, I got cocky and pushed too hard. I take full responsibility for what happened. During my therapy session, I’d discussed trying a trip to the grocery store. The previous weekend, we’d gathered at Forde and Layla’s for a game night. She’d called me on my way and asked if I could stop and pick up more mustard. I couldn’t think of a valid reason why I couldn’t go to the grocer’s like a normal person. Instead, I’d turned around and backtracked to my apartment. Luckily, I’d had an unopened bottle. The request and my reaction had ruined the evening for me. I couldn’t relax and get into the flow. I’d left early, claiming a headache but I’d felt Forde and Tony watching me.

  “Do the visualization exercise several times a day when you can focus,” Dr. Kimball prescribed in preparation for the parking lot trip.

  I licked my dry lips. “I’d just need to pull in and park, right?”

  “Work up to it in slow stages,” my therapist said in her soothing voice. “I’m more concerned with your reaction to stepping outside in the parking lot than actually entering the store.”

  “I agree.” I glanced downward, and I could see my chest heaving. I took a moment to center and try to calm my breathing. “It’s never been about the shopping.”

  “Then let’s concentrate on working up to pulling into a store’s parking lot.”

  I could do that. I would be safe in my car. It’s just a parking lot. You’ve parked your car in plenty of small lots since. Okay, so they’d mostly been garages or lots with only a few rows, but they were still lined and made of asphalt, right? “Yeah, I want to try,” I said, struggling to get the words out.

  So three days later, I thought I’d give it a shot. I’d not had any nightmares for four nights, and I was sleeping really well. I’d managed to not make any mistakes doing payroll on my own for the first time. It had been a really good week. I felt, normal, or as much as I remembered what normal felt like. So after work, I’d stopped at a red light, and then realized that if I turned left, I could be in a grocery store parking lot.

  I told myself to do it. No thinking it through, no checking with the doc, just try it. So I turned left.

  It was a disaster. I went into full-blown attack.

  When I could think again, I didn’t want to be alone, but I couldn’t call my friends. I couldn’t explain what had happened without going into the entire story. Tony was my best option, but I didn’t want to look like a fool and say that I’d jumped the gun and done this to myself. So, I went to the gym. I drove cautio
usly and pulled into the garage and parked. I’d chosen this gym and paid the outrageous membership fee, because it had both lot parking and a garage across the street. I’d rented a locker, so I changed there and hit the treadmill. My body was exhausted but also tense at the same time. I set the controls at a ridiculously slow pace, because the last thing I wanted to do was fall and call attention to myself.

  I’d done enough of that already at the grocery store. While my feet trudged on the conveyor belt, I thought about what had just sent me into a tailspin.

  I’d pulled into the parking lot cautiously with my heart pounding so hard my chest had hurt. I’d circled the outer lane of parking spots. My hands had sweated so much that I’d had to keep wiping them on my thighs. There was a line of traffic behind me, most likely cursing, because I drove a whopping five miles per hour. Finally, I signaled and turned into a space that had open spaces all around it. My hand shook as I put the car in park and let out a huge sigh. I’d done it! And then, I’d wondered if I could do more.

  Why not try? The seductive voice crooned in my head. Just a little more. If you can do this, then you’re practically cured!

  So, I’d put the keys in my pocket and unhooked my seatbelt. When my hand met the door latch, I’d felt as though part of me was pushing forward and another part was holding me back. I was at war with myself. After taking several deep breaths, I’d thrown open the door and stepped out of the car. I’d made my feet move forward, one step then two. Then I’d realized that my body was shaking and terrible sounds were coming from my throat. Animalistic sounds like a combination of a cry and a growl.

  Suddenly, I’d stood frozen to the spot. I couldn’t breathe. My chest felt as though it was going to explode from my hammering heart, and my head ached so bad that I went blind for a moment. Somehow, I made it back to the car door. I must have dived inside because my shins were now black and blue. I slammed the door shut and threw the locks, and then I’d lost it. I’d screamed and raged, feeling broken and fearing that I’d never get better. At that moment, if I’d had my Glock or something sharp, I would have done damage to myself. The pain had been so sharp that I’d needed to let it out. I’d needed to escape from these feelings.

  The steady pounding of my feet on the belt calmed my mind. It was too much, too soon. I’d gotten pumped up and jumped the gun, on a high from my small accomplishment. I should have celebrated making it into the lot and parking. Then I should have put the car in gear and gone home to eat a quart of coffee ice cream.

  I’d fucked up, and I had nobody to blame but myself.

  After an episode, the self-loathing was the worst, and that was saying something. I’d thought I was past the place where I wanted to give up. Because I truly didn’t. I had new friends, a job that was fun, and I was improving. I just wasn’t at my best. Not yet.

  I puffed out my cheeks and let out a long breath. I suddenly realized that my hands ached from gripping the side bars so tightly. I glanced down to check how long I’d been on the machine, but the screen was blurry. My cheeks were wet, and after I wiped my eyes, I looked down again and saw that my light green top was wet in splotches. I stopped the treadmill and dropped my head.

  Jesus, how long had I been crying? I looked around worriedly to see if anyone had noticed. The guy to my right was talking on his phone through his Bluetooth, and the woman to my left had just stepped onto her machine. Nobody cared or noticed. I glanced in the mirror in front of me and found no one staring. Time to go. I grabbed my towel, wiped my face and neck, and then I hurried to the locker room. I didn’t change. Instead, I stuffed my office clothes into my tote bag and got out of there. I jogged to my car and drove home.

  A rough, solitary weekend followed.

  Early the next morning, I sent a long email explaining to Dr. Kimball what had happened. She called an hour later. I appreciated her taking the time to talk to me. Yes, I’d taken on too much. Yes, such a large step was too soon. I could hear the concern in her voice as we discussed my thoughts of hurting myself.

  Typing my thoughts and feelings had helped. I knew my reaction was also a sign of my faith that I was going to improve. With P.T.S.D., time didn’t necessarily heal the wounds. I had to identify triggers and develop coping mechanisms. I needed to accept that this most likely would be with me forever. Unfortunately, I sometimes did myself a disservice, yearning for what I remembered as my normal life.

  Sitting at my kitchen table, I vowed that I would work harder. I would listen to Dr. Kimball and let go of my normal past. If this was going to be my life from now on, then I was going to make it the best that it could be.

  I’d fight for it.

  I might be broken, but I was going to carve out a life. I wasn’t going to let him or this disorder win.

  Chapter Ten

  Tye

  The good news was that Holly’s was gone from Limited, so I could go over and hang without running into her. I was tired of her subtle digs and sideways looks. I didn’t know why she was still pissed at me. I’d done what she’d asked, leaving her alone.

  I needed to tell Forde about what I’d seen the other night. I headed out of my office, not making eye contact with anyone so that I wouldn’t be stopped. I paused at my admin’s desk. “Heading to Limited.”

  “I’ll text if something comes up,” Marsha said. She’d been with me for years, so very little surprised her.

  When I got to Limited’s door, I punched in the code and walked in. Billie was at her desk talking on the phone.

  I smiled and mouthed, “Forde?”

  She nodded and motioned for me to go on.

  I tapped that door’s code and headed to the boss man’s office. His door was open, and he was on his computer. I knocked. “Got a minute?”

  He looked up. “Come on in, but I swear if you’re going to tell me about some chick you banged, I don’t want to hear it.”

  I closed his door and made my way to the chair in front of his desk. “Jeez, I remember the days when we used to enjoy exchanging those stories.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, but now I have better.”

  I thought about it briefly, and I agreed, “Yeah, you do.” Marriage and fatherhood agreed with my best friend, the man I considered my brother. I knew the many sides of Forde, and he’d always found success, but now he seemed content. The palpable hunger and tenseness that used to surround him was gone.

  “What’s up?” He leaned back in his chair.

  “Need to talk about your receptionist...”

  “Why?” He sounded a little impatient, like he might brush me off.

  I stretched my legs out in front of me. “So, I met this chick that works at Equalizer, and she gave some free passes.”

  “I don’t want to hear about how you fucked her in the steam room or some piece of equipment,” Forde warned. “I just told you that.”

  I held up my hand. “I did neither.” It had been in a massage room, but I didn’t think I should share. “She was teaching a class so I did some lifting. I thought I’d put in some miles, and I saw her.”

  Forde’s gaze narrowed. “Billie? She said something about joining a gym.”

  “She was on a treadmill, and she was ballin’. I mean the tears were falling, and she didn’t even wipe them. She just kept going, crying and walking. It was weird.”

  Forde leaned forward in his chair, no longer uninterested. “When was this?”

  “Friday about six. I didn’t know what to do. I went to find River, the chick I mentioned. I figured since she worked there, she could deal, right? But she was still with her class, so I went back, but Billie was gone. I looked around the main floor, but I didn’t see her.”

  “The chick’s name is River?” Forde gave me an incredulous look.

  “So?” I sounded defensive. He was totally missing the point.

  He shook his head at me, clearly disappointed. “River who works at a gym and does you on the premises. I hope she was hot.”

  God, it was infuriating when he went all big
-brother on me. “Number one, I wasn’t looking for substance, and number two, your girl out there was, I don’t know, having a breakdown in the middle of a gym.”

  Forde frowned for a second. “Billie didn’t mention anything. She seems okay today.” He shrugged.

  I couldn’t believe he was blowing this off. “What’s up with her? I mean that isn’t normal.”

  “I’m guessing nothing is up since she didn’t say anything to Layla when they talked over the weekend, and she didn’t mention it this morning when I asked her how her weekend was.”

  I hated it when my concerns were dismissed. I couldn’t believe he was letting this go. Forde was always there for his employees and friends.

  “I would be careful about labeling behavior as normal,” he said, his tone even, “because I’m sure many people wouldn’t think fucking some chick at her place of employment is normal.” He gave me that measured look I hated, because he was right.

  I began to defend myself, “Who said I—”

  “Did you fuck her at the gym?” Forde raised his finger and pointed at me. “And don’t lie.”

  Asshole. “That’s not the point.” I shifted in my chair and noticed my shoes needed to be shined. I wasn’t on my “A” game. This no sleep shit was getting to me. “Dude, it’s weird. Billie is kind of contained. Crying in public—that isn’t her. There’s something going on with her. You’re the one with the magic gut. What does it say?”

  “Maybe she was working through something. I don’t know, Tye. Are you sure she was crying? Maybe she just sweats a lot.”

  Forde’s excuses didn’t sit right. I shook my head. “There’s something going on with her. She’s got walls, and she shuts down. I’ve seen her do it.”

  Forde let out a loud sigh. “She’s good at her job. She shows up and works. She doesn’t cause any problems. I’ve got no issues with her, so I’m telling you, let it go.”

  I wanted to continue arguing, but I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere. “Fine.”