But her defenses were more powerful than her urges, so she remained stiff, giving him an empty nod in return. “I appreciate that,” was all she said.
The drive back to her apartment remained awkward and quiet. The driver opened the door for her, and while Devlin offered to walk her upstairs, she declined, wanting to get up on her own as soon as possible.
“I’m sorry again, Kate,” Devlin said, looking embarrassed.
Kate didn’t give him anything in return and, instead, spun around and nearly ran back inside.
She took the elevator upstairs, holding in the tears that she resented shedding. Once she was able to get inside, she was surrounded by her things, her comfort, and her energy that allowed her to finally burst open within her vulnerability.
Kate dropped the bag she’d taken with her to the floor and began to weep openly. She felt it move through the bones of her hands to the tips of her fingers, leaking out through her pores and the center of her chest. She let it out, the way that she had been taught by therapists over the years who had tried to help her with what they categorized as the loss of her childhood.
Kate hadn’t cried that much in years. But the trigger of his potential shallowness had flushed out an issue she hadn’t dealt with, and it all came back to her parents and their neglect.
She proceeded to take care of herself for the rest of the night, taking a bath, crying more, eating healthy foods, and drinking as much water as she could ingest. She continued to think about Devlin the entire time, wondering if she had overreacted.
She knew that women always questioned their own reactions because of how society painted them, which was often as hysterical, overly emotional creatures. She knew intensely that it was actually the opposite. Women bit their tongues more often in a single conversation than any man could in a lifetime.
So Kate stuck to her guns and tried to focus on relaxing before she even considered getting back to thinking about Devlin.
The night grew darker and deeper as she lay in bed after her bath, unable to fall asleep because of her cycling mind. She tried to breathe in deeply and breathe out, but nothing seemed to be working. She was stuck on the idea of her attraction to Devlin, knowing that she hadn’t ever felt that way about anyone else in her life and whether or not she should let something that life-changing go.
“Just fucking sleep on it,” she whispered to herself.
Kate eventually fell into a slumber, hoping that her phone would ring and that Devlin would be at her beck and call. When she slept, she dreamed about her parents and the fleeting happiness she felt as a child.
When she woke up late for work, she felt the sensation of dried tears on her cheeks.
NINE
DEVLIN
Devlin didn’t sleep at all the night after his date with Kate. It couldn’t have been more of a catastrophe in his mind, and what made it even more strange was that things seemed to be going well until she began talking about her experience with her parents.
The next day, Devlin had a day off work, so he went golfing with his business partner and fellow shifter friend, Victor. He was a bear shifter and looked the part with his massive stature, slicked-back black hair, and scruffy beard that was tamed flawlessly.
They went out around midday, right when the sun was at its peak, hanging brightly in the bare blue sky. Golfing was easy for both of the men, of course, since they were both shifters and didn’t have to hide their abilities from one another. The day usually turned into some kind of banter about their lives beyond work and, often, about women.
Devlin was particularly disgruntled looking that day, having not shaved that morning after getting very little sleep. He had been ruminating about the fragrant Kate, the sexy and alluring Kate, while at the same time, wondering how the hell he had managed such a spellbinding cluster fuck.
They had only been playing for half an hour when Victor noticed how distracted his friend had been.
“What’s going in there, brother?” Victor asked.
Devlin was setting up a putt but was taking longer than usual to make the stroke. The landscape was empty and quiet beyond the light spray of the sprinklers, which was why Devlin often enjoyed hitting the green in the middle of the week.
But that didn’t seem to matter to him on that day.
“Hmm?” he responded, looking up at his friend.
Victor was leaning on his club, looking rather amusing in his green and yellow plaid pants and matching sweater vest. Devlin supposed that he, too, looked a bit strange in his gold getup, but it was expected when you were a billionaire who didn’t need to work that often.
“Something is bothering you,” Victor said. “Spill the beans, man.”
Devlin groaned as he placed down his ball, then attempted lining up his putt with hands that wouldn’t stop shaking. “I told you about the matchmaker, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, I had a date with her last night … Kate is her name … and it was a monumental fuck up.”