Clipped Wings (42 page)

His smile faltered. “You’re an intelligent woman. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

In that moment I saw him for what he truly was—a predatory has-been who coerced his students to trade sex for grades. “Interesting you would say that, considering how much it conflicts with your general assessments of my research.”

His expression hardened and he took another step toward me, but I raised my hand to prevent him from getting any closer. I was done being pushed around, by him or anyone else. I wouldn’t allow him that kind of power over me.

“How many students do you offer these opportunities to, Professor?”

He blinked, like he hadn’t expected me to question him. I was certain he was unaccustomed to being challenged. When there was no response other than his looming over me in his tweed jacket, I took the draft of my thesis from him.

“Shall I assume it’s safe to reschedule our next meeting, since we’ve already discussed my thesis now?” I moved toward the narrow gap between him and the doorjamb and waited for him to step aside. When he didn’t, I prompted him further. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be heading home.”

He seemed to recover himself. He stepped aside and swept his hand out. “Of course, Miss Page. I’ll see you two weeks from Wednesday. Have a lovely evening.”

I strode quickly down the hall and threw myself into the elevator, gritting my teeth against the panic as I descended to the ground floor. It was already dark when I got outside, and I headed for my car as quickly as I could with my limp. I fumbled with my keys and dropped into the driver’s seat. Slamming the door shut, I punched the lock button before I started the engine and turned on the heat. I couldn’t believe I’d done it. I’d stood up to Professor Calder! Hayden would have been proud.

The elation was short-lived, however, considering where things stood with Hayden. I tried not to cry, but I was drained and couldn’t manage all the emotions. It had been less than forty-eight hours since I’d spoken to Hayden, and I already felt like I was in the throes of withdrawal.

I remembered how difficult it was after I left the hospital and the morphine haze lifted. Reality was an ice bath of agony. This was unnervingly similar. I hadn’t realized how much I’d come to depend on Hayden in the short time we’d been together. The urge to call him was almost debilitating. I pulled out my phone with unsteady hands and punched in the code. I’d missed several calls and messages over the course of the day. Many of them were from Hayden. The most recent text message brought on a fresh wave of tears. Three simple words:

I miss you.

I wanted so badly to give in, to ask him to come over and stay with me, to erase all the hurt. But if I did, it meant allowing this new addiction. I wasn’t so sure it was any better. It definitely wasn’t safer for my already shattered heart. Particularly not after all that revelation on Saturday.

I put my phone away. The drive seemed to take forever. My solace came in the form of a bottle of wine and more antianxiety medication when I finally got home. There was a knock on my door about an hour later. By that time I was in a medicated, alcohol-numbed fog. It was barely after nine.

I wobbled over and looked through the little peephole. Sarah was standing on the other side, arms crossed over her chest.

“Hey,” I slurred, “come on in. Want some wine?”

“Um, okay,” she said, frowning as she looked me over. “How are you? I sent you a message earlier. I got worried when I didn’t hear from you.”

“Sorry about that, it was a rough day.” I went to the fridge and retrieved the bottle of white; there was an inch left in the bottom.

“Was that all you?” she asked, brow arched.

“I have more.” I grabbed a fresh bottle from the fruit crisper. Wine was made out of fruit; it was a logical place to store it. I unscrewed the cap and poured Sarah a glass, sloshing liquid over the rim. It pooled on the counter, but Hayden wasn’t here to get all anal about it, so I didn’t wipe it up.

“You do know getting drunk alone is the sign of a problem, right?” she asked, taking a sip.

“I’m not alone anymore, so I guess that solves the problem.” I had to concentrate hard on making it to the couch without weaving.

“Have you talked to Hayden yet?”

I shook my head and took a gulp of wine.

“How long are you going to shut him out?”

“I have to work tomorrow. I’m sure I’ll see him then.”

She chewed on her bottom lip, like she was debating something. “I know what happened at Lisa’s was messed up, and it’s totally justifiable for you to need some space, but it’s pretty obvious he cares about you. Chris said he’s never seen Hayden like this with anyone. Not ever, and they’ve been friends for like seven years or something.”

“You talked to Chris again?”

She nodded and ducked her head. “He gave me his number. Well, he’s done that before, but I threw it out a bunch of times. This time I kept it. He wants to take me out for drinks.”

“You should go.” I liked Chris. Sometimes he acted more like a kid than a grown man, but he was funny and sweet.

“I told him I’d think about it. But seriously, you should talk to Hayden.”

“I don’t know.”

“What’s not to know? You’re into him, he’s into you, you had a misunderstanding, clear the air.”

“It’s not that simple.”

Sarah sighed. “Look, I get that this has to be hard for you, but you’re miserable, and from what Chris says, so is Hayden. Why go on torturing yourself?”

“I don’t know how to deal with the Sienna thing,” I admitted.

“There’s nothing to deal with, though. Hayden isn’t with her anymore, and Chris said he hasn’t had anything to do with her in forever. If anything, Hayden can’t stand to be near her.”

“I just wish he’d said something before the party so I was prepared.”

But that wasn’t the biggest issue. Seeing that woman with her hands on him made me frighteningly aware of the depth of my feelings for Hayden. My heart was already in pieces as it was. If he broke it again I would never recover. I drained the rest of my wine and stood up, intent on getting a refill. Unfortunately my balance was off, and I dropped back down.

“You’re way hammered. When did you start on the wine?” She took my glass from me and headed for the kitchen, where she rinsed it out and filled it with water instead.

“I told you it was a rough day.”

She handed me the glass. Water was probably a good idea, considering I already had the beginnings of a headache. “Talking to Hayden might help that,” she replied.

“That’s only part of the problem. My professor keeps trying to solicit me for sex,” I mumbled.

“What did you just say?”

“Sorry, I’m overreacting. It’s not like he put his hands on me or anything . . .” I didn’t want to make a big deal of it.

“You should report him.”

“I’ve taken care of it.”

“How?” Sarah asked.

“I called him out. I don’t think he expected it, and he backed off. I promise I’ll report him if he says anything again.”

“I really don’t think you should wait to do that.”

My phone rang, saving me from yet another unpleasant discussion. I checked the screen. It was Trey. His calls were growing in frequency. I never answered them or listened to the messages; I wasn’t interested in being berated or hearing another lecture on why I should hand over the house to him. I silenced the call.

“Who was it?”

“Nobody important. So tell me more about this possible date with Chris.”

* * *

Lisa was the first person to stop in at Serendipity the following day. Cassie was puttering around in the stacks, looking for a few books. I hadn’t told Cassie about the problems with Hayden, and she hadn’t mentioned anything. Lisa didn’t bring up the topic of Hayden in front of Cassie, either, which led me to believe Cassie wasn’t in the know. With a tense smile Lisa told me I should come by Inked Armor later. I said I would, even though I wasn’t sure.

What Sarah said last night made me more confused, not less. While the situation with Sienna was a point of contention, it wasn’t my biggest problem. And it wasn’t just the secrets I was keeping. Hayden would be hurt when I told him the truth. But more than that, I was only now beginning to see how damaged he was, too. If my having a fiancé who died less than a year ago didn’t ruin things between us, my growing dependency on him could.

My anxiety snowballed as the worries percolated. It got so bad during my shift at Serendipity that I ended up in the bathroom. I hadn’t eaten since the morning, so when I threw up, it was all bile. Cassie sent me home early and told me not to come in the next day. I tried to argue, but she wouldn’t have it. I went out the back door so no one from Inked Armor would notice my departure.

I was curled up in bed, snuggling with TK, when a message came through on my phone. It was Hayden, checking to make sure I was okay. I replied that it was probably the flu and I’d be fine by tomorrow. Twenty minutes later he called. I let it ring three times before I gave in to the impulse to pick it up.

“Hi,” I rasped, my throat sore.

“Hey. Cassie told me you were sick.” Hayden cleared his throat—he sounded so unsure. “Anyway, I uh—I know you don’t want to see me right now, but I left some ginger ale and soda crackers outside your apartment ’cause I know you don’t have shit for food.”

I smiled even as my eyes welled with tears. I missed him so much that I ached.

“Thank you.” My voice broke.

“Tenley? Shit. What’s wrong?”

“I’m okay. I just don’t feel well.” The lie sounded horrible even to me.

“Can I come over? I know things aren’t fixed between us, but it’s been three days. I just want to make sure you’re all right.” There was silence for a few seconds. “I don’t expect to stay. Please don’t say no.”

Sarah was right. I was torturing myself. Saying yes might be the wrong thing to do, but I did anyway. Hayden was at my door almost as soon as I hung up the phone. He stood there with a bag of groceries tucked under his arm. There were circles under his eyes to match mine, and he hadn’t shaved today.

“Can I come in?”

Almost paralyzed by the desire to put my arms around him, I had to command my body to move back and allow him through the door. He took off his shoes and arranged them neatly on the mat. His jacket stayed on, however. He crossed over to the counter and began unpacking the groceries, sorting them into perishables and nonperishables. He opened the fridge and hesitated. We usually did groceries on Sundays. I hadn’t had much of an appetite, so I hadn’t bothered to go myself. If he was upset with me over it, he didn’t say anything. Instead he put everything away while I sat on one of the stools across from him, my legs too unsteady to keep me upright.

When he was done, he poured a can of ginger ale into a glass. Then he dumped a teaspoon of sugar into it and stirred.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking out the fizz. My mom used to do this when I was sick as a kid. It’s easier on your stomach.”

He slid the glass across the counter when all the bubbles were gone. My fingers grazed his as I took it from him. The fleeting contact wasn’t enough.

“Thanks for letting me come by,” Hayden said. He went over to the sink, wrinkled his nose at the dishcloth, and got out a brand-new one. The wine from the night before had dried on the counter, leaving behind a sticky residue. He wiped it down.

“You don’t have to clean my apartment.” I took a sip of the ginger ale. It tasted like heaven.

“I don’t mind.” He turned back to me and leaned on the counter. His hand swept over the surface, moving in my direction but not touching. “No offense, but you don’t look so good right now.”

I was still in the clothes I’d worn to work, rumpled now because I’d been lying down. My hair was in a ponytail, but I was sure there were flyaways sticking out all over the place. I’d barely slept over the past three days, and I’d been puking. I was sure Hayden was being kind in his assessment.

He chewed on his viper bites uncertainly. “Maybe I could put you to bed?”

“I don’t—”

“Shit. Sorry. I don’t mean it like that. I know you don’t want that from me, and I get it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Sienna. It’s not a good time to talk about it and I get that, too, but I’m still sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you or mess up this thing between us, which is what I’ve done anyway.” He took a deep breath and kept going. “It’s okay if you don’t want to be with me anymore. Well, that’s not really true, but I’d understand. Maybe we could be friends instead or something? I still feel . . . I don’t know what I feel, but I could try to be friends if that’s what you need. I’d rather have that than nothing. I just want to take care of you. I miss you. Maybe I could stay for a bit, until you’re settled or you fall asleep or whatever you want.”

I rolled the glass between my palms, listening to the ice cubes clink against the sides. It had been so difficult for him to be honest with me, and here I was still lying through omission. I told him what truth I could. “I don’t think I can be just friends with you.”

His head dropped. “I knew I’d fuck this up. Lisa warned me not to get too intense.”

I reached out and ran my finger along the vine peeking out from under his sleeve. “You’re misunderstanding. Friends isn’t enough for me—unless you think it’s better that way.”

His eyes lifted, widening with surprise. He came around the counter and stopped when he was in front of me, close enough to touch. “Fuck, no. I want you, only you, all of you, for as long as I can have you.”

I grabbed his shirt and pulled him closer, parting my legs so he could step between them. I wrapped my arms around his waist. He was tentative at first, and then he hugged me hard, his nose buried in my hair, his lips against my neck.

“I missed you,” I said into his chest, enveloped in his warm embrace. The anxiety and the nausea abated, followed by a heady wave of calm.

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered.

“I need you too much for that to happen,” I told him.

I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad anymore.