Chapter 13
A Master of Evasion
Kian
It was hard to believe that a week could pass by so quickly, yet drag on so slowly at the same time. He’d always been a master of evasion. It was no problem for him to drive right up to his condo at the end of the night. He told himself it was no big deal that his condo adjoined Katelyn’s, a woman he tried very hard not to think about. It didn’t help that her wide blue eyes played through his mind in all his unaware moments. Her name stayed with him, a slow caress throughout his day when he didn’t need it most. Hell, he didn’t need it at all.
She was a distraction. What he’d done had crossed a thousand lines. She was a good woman. Her life, probably nearly perfect now that he’d removed her son of a bitch ex-husband from it, didn’t hold room for a guy like him. No, she’d obviously dealt with her fair share of fucked up men. She didn’t need him in the picture.
He hadn’t been rude or hurtful when he’d asked her to leave, at least not as rude or hurtful as he could have been, but his actions had the effect all the same. He’d heard it echoing in her voice, that twinge of sadness and regret.
Would she have regretted it if I hadn’t asked her to leave? He couldn’t go there. He couldn’t open up that can of whatever the hell it was. He needed to keep himself distant. Distance was the only way to be sure his own brand of poison never leached into other peoples lives.
“Hey, boss… Kian… Kian?” The sharp rap on the open door to the staff room brought his head up so sharply a shooting pain rocketed through his neck.
He raised a hand to rub away the prickly sensation as he faced the wide eyed stare of his receptionist. Heather had that exasperated look on her face she sometimes got when she was sick and tired of putting up with him. He snapped to and realized that she must have stood there for a while, calling his name while he was buried deep inside his own mind.
It wasn’t the first time and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but it was still damn well embarrassing.
“Uhhh, sorry,” he mumbled. He ran a hand through his dark hair absently, hardly aware at all that he’d done it. “What were you saying?”
Heather sighed, but it was a gentle sound. The lines on her forehead smoothed out. It shocked Kian a little to realize it was worry in her eyes, not anger. “I was just coming to tell you that your appointment for tomorrow canceled.”
Kian rolled his eyes. “Looks like I’m either getting a day off and I’m keeping a deposit or one lucky client gets bumped on the waist list and I keep the guy’s deposit.”
“Well on the bright side, he left six hundred dollars so that’s a nice pick up for your wasted time. I’ll see if I can get someone to fill up the spot. I’m sure someone will jump at the chance to get their work done earlier or maybe a new client will come in.”
“Thanks for letting me know, Heather, I know you’ll do your best.”
“No problem. I have to take off half an hour early today. Is that alright?”
Kian nodded. “Yes, for sure. Thanks again.” Heather left and he was alone again in the staff room. An open sketch book sat in his lap.
He picked up the pencil that had rolled in towards his black t-shirt and gripped it in his fingers. He turned it over a few times, utterly useless, before he set it down with a hard sigh. There was zero inspiration coming to him and the page was empty.
Fuck. There weren’t many days he couldn’t lose himself in drawing. It was his go-to escape. That and whiskey, but drawing didn’t leave him with a hell of a hangover the next morning.
Unbidden, an image of Katelyn’s face swam through his mind. She was beautiful, even with that bruise on her cheek and the welt on her forehead. Her body was glorious. She’d been so alive under his hands. Worse, she’d made him feel something. She hadn’t just cracked through his walls, she’d smashed them completely. Her tender touch did something to him. Something he feared. He thought sex could be just sex, but he’d realized far too late that it couldn’t be that way with her.
He hadn’t meant to give her part of his soul, but it happened anyway.
God, he was afraid what would happen if he saw her again. It was enough that she haunted his every waking moment. He even dreamed of her. While her image kept the nightmares at bay, as well as the memories he’d rather keep buried deep down, he felt oddly wounded. Like he’d been cut open and she’d dug herself deep, left a scar that wasn’t going to disappear anytime soon.
He thought briefly about putting his condo up for sale and moving, like the coward he was. That way he could leave Katelyn behind. She’d be just another ghost inside his chest, inside his mind.
Annoyed, Kian picked up his pencil. He sketched out an angry outline of a woman’s face. A gypsy. Except that the face shape was dangerously close to Katelyn’s.
His growl of frustration ripped through the room. It was followed up by the crash of his sketchbook as he flung it in a fury to the other side of the room.
Great. Like I need to be any more fucked up than I already am? One night with her, no, a few hours with her and I’m already worse off than I was.
He thought she was an angel, but he was wrong. She was just yet another ghost, another version of a heartache and pain that he didn’t need. He couldn’t get through it again. His fear held him captive. He knew that and he’d been perfectly fine with it until he saw her face. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for the flood that she was, the way she buffeted and broke him, shattered through, shone light on all the dark spots that he’d rather keep hidden away.
He just wasn’t ready and oddly enough, the thought of staying away, of pushing her away, hurt just as much as the fear of letting her in.