Me:You’re a bunch of jerks!!
Oh my God. And I blamed Kane for it. And I threw it across his apartment. He thinks I left my butt plug behind!
Kari:We had a team meeting. We decided you work too much and needed to… loosen up.
Britt:Loosen up! Do you get it?
Laine:I didn’t do it. But I also didn’t tell them to stop when I held your bag open.
Me:I’m mortified, guys! Someone saw it! I saw it! Then I blamed that someone else for putting it there! I can never step into public again!
Britt:1) That’s a lot of !!!!s. I teach my students not to do that. It takes away their power. 2) Sure you can. People will forget soon. And 3) Who were you with when handling a butt plug? Did it feel good? I always wondered…
Me:OMG! Stop! Shut up. It didn’t feel good!
Kari:I told you guys we should’ve gotten the smaller one.
Me:No! I didn’t try it! Jesus. You’re a bunch of freaks!
And they’re all married or cohabitating.
Then there’s me, a butt plug, a criminal, and a tendency to abuse exclamation points when I’m overwhelmed.
Fuck.
Britt:You’ll be fine. If you don’t want it, bring it back. That shit was expensive. Give it back. ‘Someone’ else will put it to good use.
Me:Britt! Jesus. Stop.
Britt:I’m working, anyway. I’ve gotta go. The kids have almost chewed through the walls.
Laine:Come to my classroom, B. Bring the desk vodka. I need a damn drink.
Kari:No drinking straight spirits on school grounds, ladies. We’ve had this discussion before.
Kari:And don’t let the kids drink, either. That’s not a gray area. That’s illegal!
A message pops through from Jules that says she’ll be by after the office to check on me. Sighing with exhaustion despite the fact I slept all day, I toss my phone down before the girls can talk me into returning to Kane’s apartment to collect the expensive sex toy.
Throwing the covers off my feet, I scrunch my face in expectation of pain, but none comes. In fact, my ribs feel pretty decent.
It’s time for a shower. And tobend weird.
Digging through my bag, I take out the antibiotic ointment and shove it under my pillow, then take the wrinkled manila folders with shaking hands and flip the top one open, coming eye-to-eye with Kane Bishop.
I hate that he’s sexy.
I hate that he’s a murderer.
I hate that he seems to have a soft spot for me, because that creates a soft spot in me for him. That weakness makes me wish I could ignore the criminal things he does.
I can’t be objective about my job. About him.
And that scares me more than Lance did.
* * *
Three hours after showering,contorting, washing my oily hair, and blow drying it to straight perfection; after applying the ointment and, for the first time ever, truly studying the stitches he used to tie my body back together, I step into my kitchen with my own shirt on and Kane’s hidden under my pillow with the ointment.