Never Let You Go (Never #2) Page 3

  “Interesting choice of location, too,” Lisa continues, looking left, then right. As if she’s trying to find someone. My throat goes tight and I press my lips together. “So close to the—scene of the crime. Are you trying to confront all of those inner demons, Katherine? This would make great TV, by the way.”

  Irritation fills me. Fuels me. I rise to my feet, causing her to back up a step. I realize in that instant I’m taller than her—and I’m of average height, so this isn’t saying much. I look down at her, dredging up any scrap of strength I can find within me. “Do you consider every life moment TV-worthy?”

  She tilts her head back, smiling up at me. “Yes. It’s what makes me so good at my job.”

  Realization dawns and I step away from her, thrusting myself onto the sidewalk. A couple headed straight for me has to dodge around me and I mumble an apology to their quickly retreating backs before I return my focus on Lisa. “Are you following me?”

  Lisa blinks, the personification of innocence. “Why would you think that?”

  She is. Oh God, she is. How dare she? “You are, aren’t you.” My voice is flat. I don’t bother waiting for a response. She could defend herself till the cows come home and I won’t believe a word she says. “You have no right to follow me.”

  “I have every right to follow you,” she says crisply, her eyebrows rising. I bet she figured I’d be my usual meek self. Well, forget that. “Agree to the interview and I’ll leave you alone.”

  “Do you really think you’ll gain my cooperation with bully tactics? I don’t think so.” I’m about to leave, turn on my heel and get the hell out of there, when I spot him. Him.

  Ethan.

  He’s to my left, walking along the sidewalk, somehow a head taller than everyone else in the crowd. Our gazes meet. Lock. His mouth curves upward at the same time mine curves down. His brows furrow in that way he gets when he’s concerned or agitated and I quickly shake my head, sending him a look that says stay away. My heart races as if it’s desperate to leap out of my chest and chase after Ethan.

  As if it knows that’s where it belongs.

  Enough.

  I swallow hard, my gaze meeting Lisa’s once more. Thank God she didn’t notice Ethan making his way toward us. She’s too busy talking to pay attention.

  “You’re being extremely difficult, Katherine, and I don’t understand why. My boss says he’s desperate for you to be included in this interview.” Please. Her boss isn’t desperate; she is. “Even if it’s for ten minutes.” At my eye roll she amends herself. “Five minutes. Two minutes, whatever it takes to get your opinion on Aaron Monroe and what he has to say.”

  I shake my head, trying my best to remain composed. “I refuse to allow you to manipulate me any further. You had your chance. Now please, leave me alone.”

  Without a backward glance I walk away. I can almost feel Lisa’s angry gaze on me, her frustration following after me in palpable waves. But I also feel something else, something full of . . . longing and confusion. Every hair on my body seems to stand on end and I rub my hands over my forearms to wipe away the chill bumps that suddenly formed.

  As subtly as I can, I glance over my shoulder to catch Ethan watching me in the near distance. Unnoticed by Lisa, by everyone but me. He’s just another man in the growing crowd, his mouth tight, his eyes full of . . . so much pain.

  I meet his gaze for the briefest moment and I can feel him. Feel his presence, his strengths, his weaknesses, but most of all I feel his unequivocal yearning reaching toward me. The yearning he feels for me. For this.

  For us.

  My traitorous body answers, everything within me growing warm and loose. I quickly turn away, my breath short, my heart thumping like a wild thing, the blood roaring in my ears. One look at him, one single moment of our gazes meeting, and I’m lost. His hold on me is so incredibly baffling, so unbelievably dangerous, I’m not sure what to do.

  I don’t know how to resist, even though I know I should.

  Instead of going to my car, I dart into the narrow alleyway between the coffee shop and the building next to it. I lean against the brick wall to catch my breath, close my eyes for the briefest moment as I try to compose my chaotic thoughts.

  Did I really think I’d be able to withstand Ethan by meeting him in public? Like that would make a difference? We just saw each other with plenty of distance between us and I feel like I’ve been electrified by a live wire. What might have happened if he’d actually touched me?

  I don’t know if I would have survived it.

  “Katie.”

  That deep, masculine voice slides down my spine, settling low. I open my eyes, my lips parting when I see him standing directly in front of me. Panic, fear, and longing mix together and leave me breathless.

  It’s Ethan.

  God, she’s beautiful. I can’t believe she’s here, that we’re breathing the same air, that our gazes are locked and I can smell her scent on the breeze, fresh and sweet. I’m so close I can touch her and I flex my fingers, eager to get my hands on her.

  She parts her perfect pink lips, her eyes wide, and she finally says my name.

  Immediately followed with, “You need to get out of here.”

  That was the last thing I expected to hear. Isn’t she the one who asked me to meet her?

  Frowning, I take a step toward her. She has nowhere to go. She’s pressed against the brick wall of the coffeehouse and watching me with eyes full of wariness mixed with . . . is that excitement?

  The potential excitement is what urges me on. Makes me think I have a chance. I need this chance. Need her to listen to me, to talk to me.

  To go home with me.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her, my voice low and firm. She’s not pushing me away, not when I finally got this chance. “We need to talk.”

  “Did you not see who was out in front of the coffee shop harassing me just a few minutes ago?” When I say nothing, she blows out an exasperated breath. “Lisa Swanson!”

  “What?” I rub my hand along my jaw. The jaw I still haven’t shaved. I probably look like a damn caveman, but I don’t care. “Is that why you ran away?”

  I saw her shake her head, mouth something at me, and then she turned tail and ran. I didn’t get it. Thought she might have panicked and considered leaving me for good. I almost collapsed with relief when I found her hiding out in the alley.

  “Yes.” The look she sends me has duh written all over it. She glances toward the opening of the alley, the people passing by on the sidewalk, before she returns her gaze to mine. “You need to go.”

  Oh, hell no. Now that I’m actually in her presence again, no way am I leaving. “I’m not going.” Reaching out, I touch her, drift my fingers down her arm. She visibly shivers, shifting away from me, and I let my hand drop. “Katie . . .”

  “Stop.” Her voice is shaky and she keeps her gaze downcast for too many long seconds. Like she can’t stand to look at me. God, I hope that’s not true. “You need to get out of here, Ethan. This was a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” Is she serious? Blood roars in my ears, drowning out all background noise. It’s as if everything fades—the people just beyond the alley, the street, all of it. My world is only the here and now, me and Katie and nothing else.

  “I should’ve never asked you to meet me.” She shakes her head, muttering the words more to herself than me. Her gaze meets mine, completely unreadable. “What if—what if she catches you? Us?”

  “So what if she does? I don’t care.” I don’t. Let Lisa Swanson discover us together. Let her fucking film it for the entire world to see. I really don’t give a shit. I can’t just walk away from Katie. Not now.

  Not ever again.

  She lifts her head, her gaze blazing. “Maybe I care,” she retorts. “Think about what this will do to us.”

  “What could it do? Force us to admit that yes, we’re in a relationship now? What’s wrong with that?”

  “This so-called relationship o
nly happened because you sought me out and then lied to me!” Her voice is shrill, her eyes wild, and she visibly shakes. She’s angry.

  At me.

  “I never meant—” I clamp my lips shut when I see her hostile expression. She looks ready to pounce. Christ, maybe she’s right. Maybe we shouldn’t have met today. Our hurt feelings are still too close to the surface, too raw and painful.

  “Do you really think meeting me today was a mistake?” I need to know her answer, though I might not like it.

  Katie watches me, pressing her lips together. I wait for her response, air lodged in my throat, my heart tripping over itself in my chest. I feel like it’s all come down to this. “This won’t work,” she whispers.

  “What won’t?”

  “Us. The two of us . . . together. We need to accept it.” Her face almost crumples but she somehow keeps it together, all while she slaughters my heart with her words. “We shouldn’t be seen together in public. If anyone recognizes us, it will become this—thing, and soon the media will be talking. About us and our sick relationship. And I don’t want that. I don’t think you do, either.”

  My spine stiffens involuntarily and I slowly back away from her, holding my hands up in front of me in pure defensive mode. As if my position can ward off the blow only her words can deliver.

  I thought my father knew how to pack a punch, saying just the right thing to make me internally bleed. A few choice words from Katie Watts and I feel like I’m near fucking death.

  “You want me gone? I’m gone,” I tell her, but I don’t budge. I’m hoping she’ll stop me. Despite the pain she’s causing, I don’t want to walk away from her. Even though it feels like my heart is about to crack into a million tiny pieces. I swear she already broke my heart when she first found out who I really was and ran, exiting my life like she was never in it.

  Now she doesn’t want to be seen with me in public. Doesn’t want Lisa to know. The rational side of my brain understands why she might feel that way. But the irrational side, the emotional side, is screaming in agony over her rejection, demanding that I hurt her back.

  My vengeful side makes me think of my father.

  Fuck. I rub a hand across my chest to ease the radiating ache, but it doesn’t help. The way Katie watches me isn’t helping, either.

  “It’s for the best,” she whispers. “The minute she spots us, she’ll tell . . . everyone. And then we’re in trouble. They’ll twist our relationship into this weird, sick thing, and I can’t. I can’t bear it, Ethan. I’ve already suffered through too much and so have you. This—we’re not worth it.”

  My mouth drops open. We’re not worth it? She’s the only person in my life who’s worth anything.

  “I’m—I’m sorry.” The choked words leave her and I can’t say anything in return.

  She turns and leaves, her steps hurried, her flat black shoes slapping against the pavement as she scurries away. I watch her go, don’t stop her, don’t say her name. I don’t do a damn thing, as if I’m paralyzed, and I wonder for one crazy moment if I might be.

  But I’m not. I’m just struck numb by her words, by her worry. She’s right. I know she’s right. The media will turn our relationship into a fucking train wreck, and with good reason. We are a train wreck. We shouldn’t have happened, but we did. No one else knows what it’s like to be me. No one understands what we went through together except her and me. But she has walked away from me yet again. Practically ran, and I did nothing about it.

  Breathing deep, I tell myself to stay strong. Either this will work or it won’t—but I want it to. I’m desperate to keep that connection between us.

  Yet I need to understand and respect her feelings. Forgive her for walking away from me so easily. It’s damn hard. That tiny, vulnerable part buried deep within me, that little boy who never felt wanted, the one who spent his entire life moving through it essentially alone . . .

  He is devastated.

  The restaurant is packed, full of people chatting loudly, mostly large families dealing with rambunctious children who tend to run around the tables like they’re on speed or something.

  Me? I sit alone. Waiting. My phone rests on the table in front of me, unchecked. I fidget in my seat, smoothing the front of my dress, pressing my lips together, the unfamiliar stickiness of the lip gloss I’m wearing making me worried I might have smeared it.

  I’m all dressed up, waiting for my date. Well. Not a real date, more of a negotiation meeting. Something clicked when I was in the shower last night. An idea. Crazy and rebellious, but that’s how I feel right now. I’m sick of being everyone’s puppet, of always wanting to please everyone. I’m taking control now. I’m so convinced this idea will work, I made the phone call first thing this morning.

  No surprise, she was eager to meet and hear what I had to say. And the moment she enters the restaurant, it’s like I feel her presence. Glancing up, I see her being led toward my table by the host who greeted me earlier, a serene expression on her face as if she is the queen and we’re all nothing but her indentured servants.

  “Katherine.” I stand when she stops by my seat, turning my cheek to accept her air kiss. So weird. The complete opposite from the almost hostile behavior I witnessed a few days ago. She’d been on edge then, I guess. I’m not sure what to think, but I do know this—I can’t read this woman. She flips and she flops constantly.

  It’s annoying.

  “Lisa.” I offer her a tight smile and gather the full skirt of my dress as I sit down, scooting my chair closer to the table. The host pushes Lisa’s seat in and she smiles up at him, dazzling the poor young guy. He’s starstruck.

  Fortunately enough, I am not.

  “I was so happy to receive your call.” A waiter appears, reaching for the empty water glass in front of Lisa, and he fills it expertly. She waits for him to leave before she continues talking. “I’m thrilled you’re willing to discuss an interview with me.”

  She wastes no time and I prefer it. I really don’t want to sit and have a casual lunch with her. I came dressed to impress, putting on my new outfit as some sort of armor, ready to fight. Ready to get what I want.

  “I have conditions,” I say, leaning my folded arms against the edge of the table. She watches me as she takes a sip of her water, her gaze never leaving mine. “Things I need you to agree to before I’ll do this interview.”

  “Of course.” Like she never expected anything less.

  I smile, though it feels forced. “I won’t talk to Aaron Monroe.” I repeated his name over and over again all morning to ensure I’d be able to say it without a waver in my voice. I’m proud of the fact that I sound so normal. “Don’t try and trick me by setting up some crazy chat between us. I will get up and walk out if you pull something like that.”

  The flicker in her gaze tells me—ha!—that she was considering it. Unbelievable. “Of course not,” she says smoothly.

  “I don’t want my interview to be too long. Ten minutes. That’s it. That’s the most I can do. I have no idea what else you’d want me to say.”

  “Well, it’s mostly going to be a response piece.” Lisa leans forward, her expression, her demeanor, eager. I get the sense she’s been dying to discuss this with me for days. Weeks even. “Monroe’s interview was conducted almost a month ago. I can ask you questions related to what he told me.”

  “Do I have to listen to him?” I don’t want to hear his voice. I don’t want those clips from his interview repeated back at me so I have to sit there and watch him, listen to him, see him with that arrogant look on his face as he trashes me. Tries to ruin me.

  “No. I’ll read the questions to you. We already have them formatted and ready to go. We plan on running the clips from his statements during the actual interview, but if you don’t want to see any of it, you don’t have to.” She smiles, takes another drink of her water. Her menu remains untouched and so does mine, because I’m figuring neither of us is here to order food.

  I know I’m certainly n
ot.

  “I have one other condition.” This is the one that makes me the most nervous. I don’t know how she’s going to take it. I’m not even sure if I’m making the right choice, but I feel like this is what I need to do in order for this stupid television appearance to happen.

  I swore I wouldn’t do this again. But here I am, agreeing to an interview with Lisa Swanson about Aaron Monroe. About to say something that is insane. Truly nuts.

  “Name it. I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”

  “I won’t do this interview unless Will Monroe is involved. If he won’t participate, then neither can I.”

  Gotta give her credit, Lisa remains completely calm. Not one crack appears in her impassive veneer. “He’s been very—reluctant to talk to me so far.”

  I know Ethan. He’s probably refused to speak with her.

  The waiter magically appears, wanting to know if we have any questions, are we ready to order, do we want something else to drink? Lisa orders a dirty martini. I say water’s fine. The restaurant may have a family-friendly vibe, but they also have a giant bar covered with TVs, all of them tuned to ESPN.

  “It’s important that he’s able to tell his side of the story,” I say when the waiter leaves. “There are three sides to this experience. Mine, Monroe’s, and Will’s. I think Eth—Will must have a lot to say.” I wince at my near slip, but she doesn’t seem to notice. I push forward so I don’t give her a chance. “I’m guessing he’s reluctant because he’s probably afraid he’ll look guilty.”

  Lisa’s gaze is steady as she watches me. “Is he guilty?”

  I hate that she asked that question. It infuriates me, how so many people automatically assume he’s a monster like his father. “No,” I say vehemently, shaking my head. “He is one hundred percent innocent. He saved me. I told you this before.”

  “Have you searched his name online? Seen what people say about him on crime forums?” Lisa asks.

  My irritation grows. Of course I have. It’s hard to believe, but there are forums for anything you could ever think of. There are entire sub-forums dedicated to Aaron Monroe and his crimes. Discussions abound about his son’s involvement, whether he’s innocent or not. Most of the chatter had died down over the years, but with my recent television interview and the upcoming interview with Aaron Monroe himself, the interest has resurged.