Dmitry has signed out.
The notification on the screen popped up so innocently. Four simple words. And that was that. The end. Have a nice life.
Good-bye.
I don’t get to fall for a girl like you.
He’d typed the words, but she could have just as easily reversed them.
Because part of her had already fallen for him. And now he was gone.
With numb fingers, she tossed her phone aside and sank back into her pillows, feeling hollowed out and lost. She’d gone online to protect herself, to save herself the trouble of relationships, and all she’d done was set herself up for another fall.
A real one this time.
She’d just gotten her heart broken by a guy she’d never even laid eyes on.
THIRTEEN
Ren padded into the kitchen barefoot, half asleep, and in search of cold water. The light over the stove was on, the faint glow casting the rest of the kitchen in shadows, and the clock on the microwave informed the darkness that it was almost three. Ren yawned and grabbed a cup from the cabinet.
But the clink of ice cubes against glass had him jumping. He spun around, blinking and trying to get his vision to adjust. “What the hell, Fox?”
Hayes was sitting on a stool by the island, a highball glass in his hand and a bottle of whiskey next to him. “Morning.”
Ren frowned. “It’s the middle of the night. What are you doing?”
Hayes grabbed the neck of the whiskey bottle and gave it a little shake.
“Drinkin’.”
Ren set his cup aside. This wouldn’t be good. Hayes wasn’t a big drinker, but when he reached for a bottle, he usually went all the way. Luckily, it looked like most of the amber liquid was still in the bottle. He’d caught him early. “I can see that. Any particular reason?”
“Do I need to pick just one?” Hayes set down the bottle and stared at his glass, a distant look on his face.
“Okay, so existential drinking. Got it.”
Hayes laced his fingers around the glass, not looking up for a long time and seemingly lost in his own thoughts. Ren watched him, not knowing what to say and wondering if he should just leave him to it. Sometimes a man needed to drink alone.
“You ever get that feeling like you can’t win no matter what?” Hayes said finally. “Like, no matter how careful you are, your fate is already written in stone somewhere? It’s like that movie we watched when we were in college, that one with the kids avoiding the plane crash but then they all start dying in other ways?”
“Final Destination.”
“Yeah.”
Ren scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to clear the cobwebs and process this conversation. “Sure. I mean, I guess everyone feels stuck like that at some point. I felt that way when I was with Gordon. Like no matter what I did, all roads would lead back to him. Inescapable destiny.”
Hayes frowned. “That disgusting piece of shit wasn’t your destiny.”
“No. Thank God. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel that way at the time.” He eyed Hayes, trying to gauge whether he was in the mood to talk or looking for an argument. He decided to risk it. “And for what it’s worth, what you’re going through now isn’t yours either. We’re going to figure this out.”
Hayes exhaled loudly. “You don’t know that. We may never figure it out. I may have whoever this is lurking over me until he gets what he wants.” His fingers tightened around his glass. “I’ve shut down my goddamned life since I got out of prison to protect myself. I’ve created my own cage. And still someone’s figured out a way to get to me. What the hell could I have possibly done to piss off someone this bad?”
“Nothing,” Ren said flatly. “Nothing you might’ve done justifies what’s been done to you. Unless you’ve killed someone I don’t know about.”
Hayes sent him a grim look. “Don’t joke. I came close once. You remember that first night you slept at my place when we were kids?”
Ren didn’t know where Hayes was going with this but he had a feeling it would require alcohol. He walked over to the island and grabbed the bottle. He poured a shot into his empty water glass and took a sip. The liquid burned down his throat. “Sure. Christmas Eve that year I came back.”