The days are long.

I throw myself into my work, thinking if I can get into some kind of a groove, I can distract myself from the fact that Hayley hasn’t called. I expected a wait, but I hadn’t expected more than a few days’ wait. Every evening I pick up my cell phone and think about calling her. Every evening I decide against it.

After what happened with Carson, she has commitment issues. I understand that, and I’m dealing. The last thing I want to do is pressure her, because if there’s a chance at all for anything between us, I have to be able to give her some space.

I’m trying.

A week after I dropped her off at her apartment, I take a cab to Union Station and head up to New York City. I’ve been looking to expand the business into another major market, and I set up meetings with a few potential stakeholders. Everything goes well.

I meet a few college friends for beers at a trendy microbrewery in Brooklyn. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other, and we sit around shooting the shit, catching up on each other’s lives. My buddy Jake’s getting married, and our friend Kyle’s gonna propose next week. I update them on the state of my business, and when they ask if there’s anyone special, I tell them I’m not looking. It’s a lie—there is someone special—but telling them that she isn’t interested in talking to me only invites more questions.

We hit up a Yankees game before I come home on the early train the next morning. The morning air is brisk, so I tell the cab driver to let me out early and I’ll walk the rest of the way. He pulls over, and I sling my bag over my shoulder. I make a stop at my favorite local cafe for an egg sandwich and a fresh cup of coffee to help wake me up.

Coffee in hand, I step out onto the sidewalk and catch sight of Hayley crossing the street. My breath catches. Do I run over and talk to her? She looks in my direction, and for a second I think she sees me, but the rush-hour crowd is heavy, and she keeps on walking.

We only live three blocks away from each other, something I never told her.

As I make my way to the office, I wonder how many times I passed her just like this before I knew who she was. How many times I’ve passed her since.

I walk by Hayley’s building often when I run my day-to-day errands. I turn right down her street to get to the local market. Turn left to get my dry cleaning.

I never run into her.

Two weeks in and still no call.

It doesn’t go unnoticed at work that I’ve been on edge lately, that I’ve got a lot on my mind. I’m distracted, distant. Sometimes I snap even though I don’t mean to.

One of my guys—Jesse—catches me in a particularly bad mood after a rough meeting with a potential client.

“Wanna go punch it out?” he asks.

Sparring sounds good; it’ll give me a physical outlet to work out some of this frustration I’ve been carrying around with me.

“You sure? I put you on your ass three times the last time we sparred.”

He replies with a cocky smile I want to knock off his face. “I’m sure. I’ve been planning my revenge. Meet you on the mats in twenty?”

I nod. “I’ll be there.”

* * *

Jesse kicks my ass.

He throws me off my game from the get-go, able to get in a few easy punches and a couple of kicks to my side. He clips me on the side of my chin, then sends me down on the mat with a leg sweep that I never saw coming.

That’s when he calls a stop to things.

“Are you firing me or something?” he asks, tossing a towel in my direction.

I sit up, rest my elbows on my knees, and wipe the sweat off my face. “What?”

“Are you firing me? Is that why you’re letting me kick your ass? You’re off your game, and this seems like a pity fight. That’s not you, so is this compensation for letting me go or something? What’s going on?”

I sigh, running the towel along the back of my neck. “Nothing’s going on.” We’re friends, I suppose, but he’s not the guy I’d spill my guts to.

“Did something happen on the Grey case?”

I train my guys to be perceptive, but I don’t enjoy that perceptiveness being turned around on me.

“What makes you think that?”

“No offense,” Jesse says, looking over at me as he lowers himself to sit cross-legged on the floor. “But you’ve been hell to work for ever since then. I know you’re close to the guy who caused her some trouble, but I thought he was in rehab? That’s what Davis said, at least. Is that not going well or what?”

“It’s not him,” I say, tossing my towel on the floor.

“Then what…oh.”

I don’t even want to look at him; I hate that this is so easy to read on me.

“Yeah, oh.”

“You gonna do something about it?”

“Date a client?” I say, testing the waters. We have a rule about dating clients; all my employees signed contracts stating they wouldn’t. She’s not my client anymore, but it’ll be good to get a feel from Jesse for how the situation would go over with my employees. Provided I can ever get Hayley to call me.

Jesse rolls his eyes. “She’s not your client anymore. No one here would bust your balls over it.”

Good to know.

“I’m not sure she wants me to,” I admit. Probably more than I should be telling him, but I can’t deny that it’s nice to have someone to talk to about this.

“I’ve worked with you long enough to know that you wouldn’t be holding on to it if you didn’t think there was something there. You’re pretty good at cutting your losses.”

“Yeah.” He’s right about that; I have a great feel for business and can tell right away when a situation isn’t going to pan out the way I want it to. I’m not sure how well that ability transfers over to relationships, though.

“Alexa was pretty broken up over the whole thing,” he tells me.

“Alexa?”

Jesse’s eyebrows knit together. “Her friend?”

Oh shit. Yes, Alexa. “Right, right.”

“She blamed herself for the whole thing, and got to talking. One thing she told me was that she thought Hayley was lonely but afraid to do anything about it because of everything that had happened to her. So keep that in mind,” he says as he stands up. He walks over to the towel rack and grabs one for himself.

“Sometimes clients stick with you,” he says, slinging his towel over his shoulder with a smile. “They stick. You should probably do something about it.”

I hate to admit it, but he’s right.

On my way home from the office, I stop by Hayley’s apartment. I knock on the door and wait for a couple of minutes, but there’s no answer. I consider waiting for her, but I don’t want to be that guy; I think that might scare her off.

I take the steps down to the lobby and catch her walking past as I open the stairwell door. Without thinking, I reach out for her, sliding my hand along the inside of her arm.

She hauls off and punches me, putting her whole body into it. Pain blooms across my cheek, radiating out through my eye socket.

“Oh my god, Hunter!” she says with wide, panicked eyes. She reaches up and touches my face tenderly. “I’m so sorry, oh my god, I felt you touch me and I just reacted.”

“It was a great punch,” I tell her. “I taught you well.”

“Are you okay? Come up to my apartment, let me get you some ice.” She takes my hand and leads me to the elevator.

This isn’t how I thought this evening would go, and even though I’m gonna have a hell of a shiner, I’m feeling no pain.