Give Up
My cellphone chimes, notifying me of a new voicemail. I chew on my bottom lip as I try to decide if I should listen to it. It was hard enough ignoring Steven’s text yesterday and refraining from answering his call today, but hearing what he has to say—hearing his deep, smooth voice—might send me over the edge, and I can’t cave. Calling him back is not an option. He wants things from me I can’t give him. Still, I can’t help wondering what he said. Giving into my temptation, I pick up my phone, open the voicemail, and push play.
“Lori, hi. It’s Steven. Steven Duncan from the other night. I meant what I said, I want more time with you. There’s a connection between us. I’ve felt it since I first laid eyes on you in the coffee shop, and I think you did too. Please let me take you out, let me get to know the real Lori Stevens. I’m guessing she’s an incredible woman. At least think about it. You know how to find me. I look forward to hearing from you.”
The message ends, and my hands are shaking as I place the phone back on my desk. My wet eyes look around the room, wanting to be sure no one is watching me. The Ruth County Press office is one giant room filled with rows and rows of desks—more than we really need for our small staff. The space lacks any color or warmth at all. Exposed gray ceilings, white partitions, pine desktops sitting on black filing cabinets, and concrete floors. The front of the building is nothing but windows, while the back houses some private offices, the restrooms, and the breakroom.
Once I confirm the few people in the room are busy working and paying me no mind, I take several deep breaths. My chest feels so tight around my rapidly beating heart, and my stomach is woozy from all the fluttering.
This man rocks my entire belief system. He makes me want for more—things I long since stopped dreaming of, things I’m not even sure I deserve. Which is exactly why he’s so dangerous for me.
After another quick check around the room, I reach for my mouse and wake my desktop. With a few clicks, I’m able to pull up the Smyth Police Department website—which may have already been in my browser history—and select staff directory, then Officer Steven Duncan.
Gosh, he sure is beautiful. Even in a boring headshot, he manages to make my abdomen tighten in need. That dark hair, thick brows, and sexy ass beard. Don’t even get me started on his flawless smile. His teeth couldn’t be any whiter or more perfectly straight. Then there’s the dimple on his left cheek that is absurdly adorable.
My eyes move from my computer screen back over to the phone, and I allow myself a moment to consider his proposition. Going on one date wouldn’t be that detrimental. If I go, he’ll likely show his true colors along the way, but I would get what I want from him, and I could put this entire thing behind me. Of course, he could just as easily take me farther down this rabbit hole to a place I might never return from. My stare moves back to the screen, thinking what an amazing fall it would be.
As I reach for my phone, fully ready to fold, someone calls my name from behind me. Squealing, I drop the phone with a thud, then close out my browser before turning to see who snuck up on me.
“Jesus, Kim. I’m going to start making you wear a bell or something. You nearly caused me to have a heart attack.”
Kim Denton is one of our budding interns who’s constantly under foot. She’s young, perky, and completely annoying. I’m not certain what bothers me more, her blonde hair and blue eyed good looks, or her millennial way of thinking.
“Sorry.” She gives me a toothy apologetic smile, and I try to hold back my disgust at the little piece of lunch stuck in there. “You must have been in deep thought. I called your name a couple times before I approached you.”
My face heats a little, wondering if she’d seen what, or who, was on my screen before I closed it out. Attempting to calm my nerves, I clear my throat. “Yes, well…did you need something?”
“I wanted to tell you Paul Eastman was in here earlier, and he was asking about you.” My head begins to spin as the oxygen leaves my lungs, but I nod and force a smile. “He is such a great guy. You’re so lucky Paul freaking Eastman was your mentor.” I continue to nod, my face now numb and tingling from suppressing my true emotions.
The way Kim sees Paul is no different than the way everyone else in this town sees him. She looks up to him the same way I had before he ruined me.
I remember the way I felt when I met Paul for the first time. My hands were shaking, I was so nervous. My cheeks felt like they were on fire as I struggled to take even breaths.
Paul was so kind and welcoming, making me feel at ease rather quickly. At the time, I had no clue he was merely a predator tricking his prey. There was no way for me to know his offer to work with me on my writing was really a ploy to get me to trust him—an excuse to get me alone.
Movies and television shows taught me about all the boogiemen out in the world. I knew never to go to a party alone or take a drink from a stranger, and I was always extremely cautious walking to my car—my mace at the ready.
But I never knew to be afraid of a man like Paul. He was my hero, and the hero of the story is never the villain. Or so I thought.
There are a lot of ways I could describe my experience with Paul—lucky is nowhere close. But Kim coming to me about this now, bringing up the one person who could remind me of all the reasons I shouldn’t call Steven back, is like divine intervention. I got the message loud and clear.
Every time I hear the chime of the door, I look up hoping to see her. It’s been weeks since Lori went running from my house. She hasn’t answered my calls or text messages. She’s simply disappeared—vanished. Honestly, I don’t even know what I’m doing still trying to chase after her. I’ve never gone after a woman like this before. I’m a strong believer that relationships, at least the right ones, should come easy and shouldn’t be a constant battle. I don’t want to have the type of relationship my parents had. It seemed like they were always at war.
Yet, there was something about Lori that made me feel like she’s worth fighting for. So, here I am, sitting in the same coffee shop where we met, praying she’ll walk through that door. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe I imagined the gravitational pull between us, but there’s only one way to be sure.
The door sounds again, and I look up from my paper to eye the new arrival. When my glare is met with a pair of big hazel eyes, I feel the sting of disappointment again. As I begin to avert my stare, I noticed the hazel eyes are attached to smiling, full pink lips—at me? The woman’s cheeks blush as I meet her gaze again, her eyes moving to the floor as she continues to the front counter. I study her as she orders her coffee, wondering if we’ve met before.
She has long, dark, wavy hair. Her tall frame compliments the extreme curves of her body, though she’s trying to conceal them with her outfit. She’s wearing a Tennessee Whisky shirt with a black blazer over it, ripped jeans, and a pair of bright red Converse. She couldn’t be more opposite of the woman I came here wanting to see, but she’s still very attractive.
Once she has her coffee in hand, she begins to head in my direction, a shy smile playing on her pouty lips.
“I’m sorry,” she says as she approaches my table. “I don’t mean to disturb you, and you probably don’t remember me, but I wanted to say hello.”
Giving her a warm smile, I shake my head. “It’s not a problem. You aren’t disturbing me.” I gesture toward the open seat, offering it to her, and her features brighten as she takes it. “You do seem a little familiar, but I can’t place you.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear with one hand, the other fidgeting with her cup. “Well, that’s understandable, it’s been a few years. We met at the hospital. You were there helping my sister Lizzy when she lost her husband. I’ll never forget how kind you were to stay with her, waiting until I could get there. I wanted to thank you again.”
I nod, remembering that night vividly now. It was the first time I ever had to tell someone their loved one was hurt and possibly dead. The woman’s grief was so severe, it reminded me of my mother when she got the news about my father. There was no way I was leaving her side until I knew she had someone who could take care of her. “Yeah, I do remember that. Cat, right?”
Her cheeks flame red as she nods, the grin on her face growing so big, it looks like it might split in two. “Yep, that’s me. Cat Shea.”
She updates me on her sister, and I’m happy to hear she seems to be doing well. My mother never recovered from losing my father. She let her grief consume her life. We talk about everything and nothing for the next hour. She’s easy to talk to, and as our conversation continues, I find myself wondering if I should take running into her today as a sign. Lori has made it clear she isn’t interested. Maybe it’s time I give up.