Rebelonging (Unbelonging, Book 2) (24 page)

It was a tempting offer, and would solve so
many of my problems. But part of me was still old-fashioned. Moving
in wasn't exactly the offer of my dreams, even if it was pretty
spectacular.

Still, I felt myself smile against his chest.
"I'll think about it," I said.

"Don't think. Just do it." And then, he
pulled away. He looked down at me an expression bordering on
desperation.

"You don't want to take money from me," he
said. "I get that. And I respect the hell out of that, honest. But
baby, please. Come on. Stay with me. Or shit, I'll buy you a house
of your own if that's what you want. Just no more other guys
anymore, alright?"

I felt my eyebrows furrow. "What do you
mean?"

"I mean," he said, "I love you."

"I love you too."

He reached out, gathering me into his arms
once again. I felt his grip tighten and heard his voice, a low
whisper in my ear. "You don't have to sell yourself anymore. From
now on, let
me
take care of you, alright?"

Slowly, his words sank into my brain. I felt
myself stiffen. I pulled back and gave him a hard look. "Sell
myself?" I said.

He leaned close, trying once again to pull me
into his arms. I pushed away and looked up at him. "Just what are
you implying?" I said.

"Baby," he said. "I don't want to judge you.
I mean, the things I've done for money–" He blew out a breath. "In
a way, I guess I sold my body too, right?"

Slowly the pieces started to click. And once
they did, they clicked so hard and so fast that I had a hard time
staying upright. "Oh my God," I said, stepping away from him.

"Hey," he said, his voice filled with
sympathy. "Like I said, I don't wanna judge you for doing what you
had to do, but—" He shook his head. "It stops now, alright? You've
gotta promise me."

I closed my eyes, feeling all the color drain
from my face. When I opened them again, he was staring at me with a
look of such pity, I wanted to slap that look right off his face,
and then kick him in the balls for good measure.

"Let me get this straight," I said. As I
stared up at him, my body trembled, and my voice rose. "You think—"
I felt myself swallow. "You think I'm some kind of hooker?"

"Chloe." His voice was soft. "I didn't call
it that."

"But that's what you think?" I stumbled
backwards. Breathing hard, I pushed my hands through my hair. It
was official. This day
was
a nightmare.

"Baby," he said. "What is it? You okay?"

I glared up at him. "Okay?" I shook my head.
"Nope. Definitely not okay here."

I cupped my hands around my mouth and
hollered toward the interior of the house. "Chucky! C'mon! We're
leaving!"

"What?" He reached for my hand. "Why?"

I slapped the hand away. "Don't touch
me."

"Why not?"

"Because, you idiot, I'm not a
hooker
." I spoke very slowly and clearly, enunciating every
word. "I'm a
house-sitter
!"

His jaw dropped. "What?"

"Oh yeah." When I tried to laugh, it came out
half-crazed. "Big difference there, huh?" I turned away and shouted
out again, "Chucky, where are you?"

With muttered curses, I stalked toward the
kitchen. I felt a hand on my elbow. I shook it off and whirled to
face him. "I already told you, stay away from me!"

Lawton stared at me with a pained expression.
"So those guys–"

"Who?" I said. "The property manager who
stopped by this morning?"

He swallowed. "Property manager?"

"Or maybe," I said, "you meant the financial
guy?"

"Financial guy?"

"Yeah. The guy on the porch." I gave Lawton a
cold smile. "And just so you know, when I say financial guy,
I
mean someone who manages the home-owner's accounts, not
for example, some fucking pimp!"

As I spoke, Lawton's face grew paler and
paler, until he looked white as death.

"And the call last night?" he said.

"It was just what I said. And in case you're
wondering, she's a woman. And she called me last night because
their accounts are all screwed up, which, in case it hasn't escaped
your attention, is a whole lot different than screwing for
money!"

His brow furrowed. "So she's the
home-owner?"

"Renter, owner, hell, at this point, I have
no idea. But she definitely lives there." I crossed my arms.
"Except, I guess, when she's off in Costa Rica with her
husband."

Lawton shook his head. "But the guy who lives
in that house, he's not married."

"Oh yeah? How do
you
know?"

"Bishop told me."

"Yeah? Well, maybe he's wrong."

"No. He's never wrong."

I gave him an icy smile. "Then maybe you
should ask
Bishop
whether or not I'm hooker. I mean, he
knows everything, right?" I threw up my arms. "Why am I even
discussing this with you?" I turned to call over my shoulder.
"Chucky!"

Lawton reached out for me. "Baby, c'mon,
don't go. Not like this."

I slapped his arms aside. "Look, let me make
this really clear. Whatever we had, it's over."

He shook his head. "Don't say that. C'mon.
I’m sorry, alright?"

"No," I said. "It's not alright. What is it
with you? Why do always assume the worst about me?"

"I don't."

"You do." I turned and stalked through the
house, looking for Chucky, and beyond eager to leave.

"C'mon, Chloe." Lawton's voice broke. "Don’t
go like this."

I whirled to face him. "You've got to promise
me something."

"Anything," he said.

"Don't call me. Don't talk to me. Don't–"

"Baby, c'mon—"

"Don't write me. Don't email me. Don't text
me. And, if you see me on the street, don't fucking wave to me." I
choked down a sob. "Just leave me alone, alright?"

He reached out, trying to gather me in his
arms. Again, I slapped his hands aside. "What part of leave me
alone don't you understand?"

"But Baby, you're upset."

"Of course I’m upset! My boyfriend—" I raised
my hand. "No. Make that my ex-boyfriend, thinks I’m a damn
hooker!"

"Chloe, c'mon, don't say that. That's not the
way I thought of it."

"Yeah, right," I said, taking a deep breath
and wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "Now, promise me."

"To leave you alone?" His lips parted, and
his eyes were glassy. "I can't."

"If you ever loved me," I said, "you
can."

"Don’t ask me to," he said. "Beat me, yell at
me, whatever, but don't make me do this. Please."

I made a scoffing sound. "Look," I said, "All
the time I've known you, I've never asked you for one fucking
thing. And I know damn well that other girls have. So now, this is
it, the first thing I've ever asked, and you can't even say
'yes'."

"Baby—"

"Promise me. I mean it."

I needed a promise, because there was one
thing I'd learned the hard way. The guy was impossible to resist,
and I was too tired to try.

"And if I do promise you?" he said. "What
then?"

I looked away. "I don't know."

His voice was ragged. "Are you saying there's
a chance?"

"Yeah," I said. "Slim to none."

"I am so fucking sorry," he said.

"You already said that."

Just then, Chucky skidded around the corner,
one of Lawton's socks dangling from his teeth.

For Chucky's sake, I tried to keep my voice
calm. "C'mon Chucky, time to go."

Lawton's voice was just a whisper. "Don't go.
Please?"

I gave him a deadpan look. "Where's my
promise?"

"I can't."

"Alright, fine. Whatever. I guess it's all
about you, huh? Heaven forbid
you
do anything you don't want
to."

He was silent, and so was I. Chucky looked
from me to Lawton and back again.

The seconds stretched, and then Lawton spoke
as if the words were torn from his throat along with his heart.
"Okay."

"Say it," I said.

"I promise."

I gave him a slow nod, and turned toward the
door.

"Wait," he said.

I turned around.

"I'm not giving up," he said.

"Well so much for your promises," I said.
"What'd that last? Two seconds?"

"I'll keep it," he said, "even if it kills
me."

"I mean it," I said. "Even if you see me in
the supermarket, just keep on going. Alright?"

Instantly, it struck me as an incredibly
stupid thing to say. Did billionaires even visit supermarkets?
Whatever. As long as he got the point, right?

Slowly, he nodded. But then he spoke, a
strangled whisper in the quiet room. "You call me. I'll be
waiting."

"Then you'll be waiting a long time," I
said.

"I don't care," he said. "Call me anytime.
Day, night, middle of the night. I don't care. Just call me.
Okay?

"Don't count on it," I said. And then, with
Chucky in my arms, I headed toward the front door, opened it up,
and walked out. When I hit the front walkway, I set Chucky down. He
plopped down on the walkway and refused to budge.

"Damn it," I muttered and scooped him up. He
wriggled the whole time I walked toward iron gate, still open from
when we'd arrived. The short walk seemed to take forever. But when
the gate was finally behind me, I stopped and turned around. Chucky
gave a long, plaintive whine.

Lawton stood, framed in his doorway, looking
out at me with an expression of such anguish that the lump in my
throat grew to epic proportions. I choked it down and turned away,
hugging Chucky close as I made my way along the smooth
sidewalk.

"Time to go home," I said.

Of course, the home might be Chucky's, but it
wasn't mine, because, let's face it, I didn't have one.

Work, sleep, mope, walk Chucky – the days
dragged on with very little change.

At work, Brittney finished all the required
training and went out on her own. She was still rude and barely
competent, but at least she wasn't my problem anymore. True, I saw
her more often than I liked, but she barely spoke to me, and I was
happy to return the favor.

Slowly, but surely, those with the flu were
returning back to work. I kept waiting for the axe to fall, but
somehow it never did.

Instead, I kept getting the worst shifts on
the worst nights. I was the first to get sent home and the last to
be called in when someone else was sick. I should've cared, but
somehow, I couldn't make myself give it more than a passing
thought.

Slowly, but surely, I was sinking deeper into
a financial hole. But I'd been sinking so long that I was almost
used to it. So I did what I always did. I sent out resumes, went on
interviews, and curbed any expense I could think of.

At the Parkers, I worked hard to keep myself
busy, cleaning, organizing, and consoling Chucky as best I could.
For both our sakes, I'd started walking him along a different
route, avoiding Lawton's place like the plague it had become.

To my surprise and relief, he kept his
promise. I missed him. I thought about him every day. I longed to
feel his arms around me and hear his voice in my ear. But wanting
him so bad that it made my heart ache didn't mean I should go back
to him.

I was on my third week of moping when the
sound of the doorbell woke me from a nap on the couch. With weary
resignation, I dragged myself up and stumbled, still half asleep,
to the door and peered out the peephole.

Who I saw there didn't make me happy. I
opened the door and glared at him. "What do you want?"

If Bishop was surprised by my rudeness, he
gave no indication. "Got a minute?"

"No."

"That's too bad," he said. "Because I came to
apologize."

When I didn't respond, he added, "From what I
hear, girls like that sort of thing."

I narrowed my gaze. "Is this some kind of
trick?"

"No trick," he said. "I'm assuming you're not
gonna invite me in?"

"Got that right."

"Figured as much. Wanna talk outside?"

"Not particularly," I said.

"But you will anyway."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you're curious what I'll say." He
flicked his head toward the interior of the house. "Go ahead, grab
a coat. I'll wait here."

"Yeah, you do that," I said, slamming the
door in his face.

I stalked back to the couch and threw myself
down on it, determined to go back to sleep. Whatever he was
planning to say, I didn't want to hear it. What would he say,
anyway? Was he really going to apologize? And if so, for what,
specifically?

I closed my eyes and tried to drift. That
lasted less than five minutes. It was no use. I
was
curious.
"Damn it," I muttered and got up to retrieve my coat.

I went outside, slamming the front door
behind me.

He was still there.

"You got five minutes," I told him.

"Alright," he said. "But just so you know,
I'm going to save the actual apology for the end, so you don't run
off before."

"Fine. As long as you're within five
minutes." I made a show of looking at my wrist.

Bishop glanced down at my empty wrist. "That
only works if you're wearing a watch."

"Not if you got the message."

"Fair enough." He glanced past me to the
Parkers' front door. "A while back, I went into that house when you
weren't home."

I made my eyes obnoxiously wide. "You did? I
had no idea." I put a finger to my chin. "Gee, did you do anything
else, by any chance?"

"I went through your purse. I checked out
your license." He shrugged. "Gave the dog a few snacks. He seemed
to like the bacon ones best."

"Is there an apology coming any time soon?" I
asked.

"Alright. I shouldn’t have done it. And I
apologize."

"So," I said, "Lawton told you that I knew
about that, huh?"