by Kendra Mase
“Wait here.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
Moving back into his room, he let the door fall mostly closed behind him.
“Finally,” bemoaned Pen. She pushed off from the wall and draped herself back over him. “I thought I was going to have to start begging to get you back in here. You seem tense.”
Her hands went to his shoulders.
Jack shook her off.
“No. Pen, stop.” He couldn’t do this anymore. The realization in its entirety startled him, but not enough to stop talking. “I told you before. We are done.”
“Done?”
“Yes.”
Her lip curled with confusion. “Why?”
“I can’t be with someone who doesn’t respect me.”
“Well, we’re not really together, so.”
Jack stared at her for a long moment.
She seemed to get the picture, peeling herself away from him. She sat on the edge of his bed. “Wow.”
He nodded in case she needed another prompt.
Then again, Pen was never short on words. It was one of the things he used to say he liked about her.
“So, respect, huh?” She snorted. “Good luck with that, Jack.”
“Thank you. Now, if you would just get your friends—”
“I think you misunderstand. No one in their right mind would respect you unless you were on the other end of a flogger. That’s why you got into Dom-ing for a living, isn’t it? So you’d feel powerful?”
Among other things, he admitted that to her once, yes. For once in his life, he felt powerful every day. He thought for a short amount of time at least he was living and standing tall where people admired him.
But no, now it was all too clear that he did not misunderstand.
He bit the side of this tongue. “Get out.”
Something in his voice, rough and low, was enough to make her falter.
“Get out,” Jack repeated, louder this time. Reaching down, he threw her clothes at her. “Go and take everyone with you. I mean it this time. It’s not a joke. I am not some stupid game for you to play. I’m done.”
Pen clutched her clothes to her chest, even as she made no move to put them on. “Fine. Go. Have fun pining after the girls that don’t want you, Jack.”
Gritting his teeth, hot rage clouded his brain. “Out.”
Taking a deep breath, he raked his fingers through his hair again, wanting to scream and feeling it opening up a hole in his chest. But he didn’t. He held the pressure in and shoved it down and swung around to open the door at the sounds of people moving throughout the house.
But maybe she was right. Kit was gone.
Chapter Eighteen
The first time Katherine ever saw one of her own pieces of work on someone outside the shop, the wearer was half naked inside of Jack’s room.
It was a simple pair of underwear she’d made multiple of in different colors. But that pair, the frill of lace on the right side was a millimeter lopsided. The stretchy peach-colored fabric crunched in with the rest, just enough that she’d notice.
She watched as he went back to her through her room, and Katherine shook her head down at herself as she waited by the staircase. She looked at the tiny birds hidden in the wall foliage and turned to stare again down to her feet. At one point through her walking, along with the small ache around the back of her heel, she scuffed the toe—just like how she promised she wouldn’t when putting them on the first time.
Now there they were, damaged.
Biting her lip, Katherine didn’t want to hold it in any longer. The pressure pulsed at her eyes and up her throat and burned as she shoved it right back down the other way. She was not going to cry in Avril Queen’s house.
Glancing toward Queen’s bedroom, she wondered if she could find the event notes or the planner. She saw it the last time she was here, next to the rows of lipsticks on her vanity. It wasn’t worth it now, though. She could come back. Katherine needed to get out of here. She needed to leave and stop making up all these ridiculous scenarios in her head that were never going to happen.
Like when Jack pushed Devil off of her and looked at her like…that.
She swallowed, though something thick caught in her throat. Bringing the tips of her fingers up to her neck, thinking about Devil who had just been there. Everyone told her to lighten up and live and have fun, yet she was so stupid. She waited for someone who had left her weeks ago without reason or care, like everyone did.
From the moment she stepped into Ashton, there was this feeling she had, this odd deep feeling in her stomach that everything would change.
Who would’ve thought it would probably be for the worse?
Oh, that’s right. Her. She did. She always thought, constantly hoping to be pleasantly surprised and devastated when she wasn’t. But she wasn’t going to be devastated this time.
Now, she had to be done waiting.
Katherine made her way across the bridge again, maneuvering around others, looking over the edge before she thought to catch a cab. It was probably a good thing she didn’t. She left her jacket and bag back at the townhouse, not that they would do her much good now. Heat pulsed inside the student apartments she remembered seeing on one of her walks the past few weeks, only a few blocks from the institute. She didn’t need her phone to ask what the address was.
People crowded the corners of the space that smelled like smoke, sweat, and cheap beer that stuck to the bottom of her shoes. She slipped past the condensed group of bodies, gyrating under the colored lights as she made her way inside.
Immediately, a body, slick with moisture, hit against her front in a sort of hug.
Katherine quickly tried to return the gesture, looking up to see Cameron with her pixie cut. It was now streaked with purples and glitter.
“Hey!” She opened her eyes wide in gladness. “You made it.”
“I did.” Katherine tried to smile as she caught her breath.
“We weren’t sure if you were going to show. Yeah, though, rough day? Let’s get you a drink and hang out. It’s getting late, so some people are leaving for other spots, but all the good people are still here, I can introduce you. Everyone wants to meet you—Josie! Come here,” Cameron called out toward the kitchen before she could respond. “The sex shop girl is here I told you about.”
That was her. Another reason they really needed to get a name on that shop sign.
“Can I get a drink?”
“Sure! Come on.” Cameron pulled her along toward where the girl yelled. Reaching over on a table, she handed Katherine a red plastic cup.
Inside it was a similar shade, thin like generic fruit punch. Lifting it to her lips, however, Katherine cringed. It tasted more like acid. Still, she kept drinking it, drowning out the conversation about classes and names she didn’t know.
After a while, Katherine looked down into her cup, seeing she drank most of whatever was inside as she nodded at whatever anyone said to her. Sex shop? Nod. Meeting interesting clientele? Yes. Didn’t they see her at Keys a few weeks ago with those people who used to be on the Ashton gossip sites?
Probably.
She could barely hear anything anyway above the music she’d never heard before, heavy and sharp as the beat bounced against her heart.
Pounding.
What was she doing here? She should probably be home with Emilie, helping her get better, or starting orders for the next day or back at the townhouse—Katherine paused, gripping her cup. What would’ve happened if she had stayed back there? Would she have been waiting long?
What would Jack have said, looking at her like he had no idea all of a sudden who she was at all?
Or maybe he would’ve said nothing, ditching her in the hall after realizing she wasn’t worth being jealous over, wasn’t worth it as a friend or—she forced herself not to imagine any other fantasies. It was just like what Emilie thought today when Katherine brought up her ideas again, never quite fitting inside whatever lines wer
e clearly drawn.
Someone at her elbow nudged her and asked her something.
Turning, Katherine saw it was the guy from earlier at the market. Oliver. His brown hair clung to his forehead with a thin layer of sweat. There was no air conditioning in this place. “What?”
He raised his voice, cupping his hands over his mouth as he leaned in closer to her. “I asked if you were having fun!”
Oh. Katherine looked around toward the others, who only offered swift glances from the corners of their eyes. At some point, they must’ve moved on to another topic.
“What were you up to today before this?”
“I worked.” Katherine’s eyes widened as she straightened herself from the wall she leaned against as she tried to remember to sound casual. What was in that punch? “I actually ended up at another party before I got here.”
“Two parties in one night. You are a downtown Ash girl, huh? I wasn’t sure.” He raised an eyebrow.
“What is that supposed to mean?” No, that question wasn’t right. It was too tense again. Too defensive.
Turning back to Oliver, he smoothly transferred her drink, or lack thereof, to the sticky counter beside them.
“Dance?”
Her eyebrow crinkled as she looked around, a new song coming on heavy and low as it sank to her stomach, and not in a good way. Her heart was already pounding again, all her thoughts swirling in her head, including the ones she thought she pushed down far enough earlier.
“I should go soon. I don’t really dance.”
“That’s all right,” Oliver encouraged, reaching for her hand. “Who does?”
Jack.
She shook her head at the name, remembering the way they swayed at the wedding. Like an invitation, Oliver began to lead her to the other room. Furniture was pressed up against the perimeter of the walls, everyone in the center jumped and danced together.
A chill snaked up Katherine’s spine while sweat collected on the back of her neck. Swallowing another breath of air, she didn’t feel so well, that thick tightness in her throat was still there.
She tried to push that all down too, though it wasn’t as giving. She instead tried to focus. This was good. These are supposed to be her people to be around. They were students, the kind of people she would’ve been around all the time if she would’ve gone to college. This was one of the lives she could’ve led, if she wanted, if she dared, if all the people she cared about didn’t leave so carelessly.
It was fine.
It was all fine.
Oliver’s hands transferred from her hands to her hips.
She took a step back, gasping for an ounce of air. Nothing felt like it reached her lungs. She nearly fell into another group, mouthing the lyrics to whatever song was playing. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Two parties will do that to you.”
Katherine tried to narrow her eyes, but the pressure was back, filling her head like cotton balls in a glass container. How many could you fit inside before it broke?
He had no idea what he was talking about.
She needed to stop thinking.
She tried to take another step back, and this time there was no one there to stop her from taking it. Heat rising from her back up through her ribs like a wave, heart pounding. She needed to calm down. She needed to think about calming down and taking a deep breath.
She needed to stop thinking.
“You okay?”
“I can’t be here.”
“Why not?” he asked. “It’s just a bit of fun.”
Fun. Katherine could be fun. She knew she could be even as something felt as if it was lodged in her throat.
His hands gripped onto her wrists, pulling her back into the crowd of tired, intoxicated art students dancing, even though she was not one. She would never even be like one. She was the girl who worked at the sex shop. An oddity.
Hands grazed her hips, and it was all Katherine could do not to gag on the rush of panic that surged up her throat. Anxiety clamped its damp fingers around her rib cage, banging to get into her lungs.
She gasped. “Let go of me.”
No one heard her. No one ever heard her when she had something to say. No one—
“Does no one have fucking ears anymore?” The body was torn away from hers. A familiar bellow replaced it, cutting between the rush of people. It cleaved the air apart with an odd sense of déjà vu.
“Jack.”
His eyes were wide as he looked at her, eyes focused, like he was trying to find an answer to some kind of puzzle.
Katherine couldn’t breathe.
She thought she had felt this way a million times before, but only a few times like this, overwhelming and whole as it took her over like a fist, squeezing any ounce of life she thought she had left to give, taken. This was different. She stumbled away, trying to get to the door.
That was agony and this was—this was—she could. Not. Breathe.
The rush of emotions was too much, crashing into her.
And then it swallowed her.
Chapter Nineteen
The first time Jack fell in love with Avril Queen was at a party, but now in front of him, he swore he saw his life crumble along with him. Kit’s lips trembled, looking so out of place in all the noise. A rush of sour bitters hit his lungs a hundred times the amount they usually did, corroding around his ribs as effectively as a knife slicing through bone and sinew.
“Kit.” Before Jack could finish saying her name, Kit’s legs swayed. Catching her close to the floor with inches to spare, Jack’s arms strained as he kept her on her feet.
She was shaking.
“Whoa, whoa, I got you. Lean into me.”
You’re safe. I got you.
No one was even paying attention as Jack led her back toward the door outside. It was too loud in the house, too hot. He barely even knew what he was doing here, and Kit—her one hand reached up with a fierce grip on his shirt, a loose button coming undone.
“I got you,” he repeated, feeling the rush of emotion surging through her skin. Fear and panic and misunderstanding swirled like darkness, choking her when they reached outside. It pulsed like the loudest heartbeat, hard and heavy in a world that never stopped moving before picking up again. So fast, everything was so fast, and here they were.
He could hear her gasp.
“Just sit down, there you go,” Jack murmured, letting her wobbly legs ease down on the front steps. He settled his hands on her knees.
A line of ice held her down as tears began to stream from her eyes. She shut them.
“You just need to take a deep breath for me, Kit. One big breath—My god.” He looked over his shoulder at a few other partygoers, who obviously didn’t understand that it was fucking October and they needed a jacket or something as they let a line of smoke escape from their lips.
They each took their turn, glancing at them from the sidewalk.
Kit hated to be stared at, he remembered.
“Get the fuck away from us—goddamn.”
Kit shuddered.
“Breathe. You need to take a deep breath.” Jack tried to explain as he further assessed the situation. His voice calm, eyes wildly trailing over her one more time for any pain or bruises.
The alarm was slick in his veins as it poured out of her.
“You’re having a panic attack, Kit. It’s all right. You just need to breathe. Look at me. Right now. Look at me and follow my breaths. In.” Jack took a deep breath in before letting it out.
He tried again. In. And out.
Katherine shook as she attempted to mimic him. So simple, and yet her entire body clenched in concentration—no, in fear. She couldn’t do it, shaking her head as she made a sound he could only describe as a whimper.
“Goddamn it. You better breathe right now, Kitten, or else I will literally turn you over my leg and spank you until you are gulping for air.”
She tried to suck in air, the sound more like a wheeze.
“Good. Breath
e,” Jack ordered again, a deep, authoritative tone slipping into place as she responded. “Breathe, Kit.”
After another moment, she opened her mouth and took a breath, and then another longer than the last.
“There you go. Keep going. Good girl,” Jack encouraged.
She shivered.
Right. Pulling his jacket from his shoulders, it looked like Kit wasn’t very prepared for the cold Ashton weather tonight either. He swung it gently over each of her bare shoulders.
“How did you find me?”
“Didn’t you hear that I always know where the parties are?” Jack attempted to joke, but only because it was true. It was basically in his friend job description when Reed dropped Avril’s prerequisite and they ended up at Keys one too many nights out playing scrabble. “It’s basically my calling card, among other things.”
“Other things,” she repeated.
What did that mean?
He watched as she closed her eyes and took another breath that shook her rib cage. But her heart was slowing down, somewhat. All that was left wasn’t the tense anxiety, but cool sadness. Not heavy, just plain and simple sort of sorrow like a chill on fingertips.
He wanted to grab hers as she stretched her hands out before they went back to tiny fists.
Jack cleared his throat as she blinked her eyes back open. “Do you have those often?”
“Sometimes.”
Jack swiped his thumb over the soft skin of her knee again, trying to slow his own heart rate that at some point seemed to sync with hers.
“I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart.”
“So sorry.”
“What did I just say?”
She said nothing. Still, her hands shook. He always thought a seamstress’s hands would be steadier. But now, even if she didn’t notice, he took them in his, gently pulling them away from her face.
“What happened?” Jack asked quietly after another moment. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Kit shook her head, a stringy wave falling over her cheek.
Jack resisted the urge to reach up and brush it away.
She, on the other hand, slipped her hand out of his and did it for him.