Out of Love Read online

  Had a torrid affair with your boss? Did he break your heart? No worries. Just be sure to schedule him out of the office as much as humanly possible.

  Yeah, Foster probably hates my guts right now—even more—because he’s been out of the office for meetings with potential new clients and leading training at sites—far more often than normal. Pretty sure he’d call me out on it any other time, except for the fact that he doesn’t want to be around me any more than I want to be around him. At this point, it’s safe to say we’re both relieved whenever we’re not alone together at the office—having as little interaction as possible.

  I may be scheduling him to death but he hasn’t complained. The tough part is that my coworkers have noticed. Especially Kane.

  “Darlin’, remind me to never break your heart. ’Cause I’m sure to be worked to death.” When he flashes his trademark grin, I force a smile before turning back to my computer to finish updating a contract renewal for one of our sites.

  As much as I adore Kane, I really don’t want to talk. I don’t want to talk to anyone at this point. Laney and the others have been badgering me to join them for happy hour and girls-only dinner nights, but I don’t have the desire to be around other women who are so happily in love.

  “Hey.” Kane’s uncharacteristically serious tone draws my attention, and my eyes lift to meet his warily. “You hanging in there?”

  Hurriedly turning my eyes back to my work, I swallow past the rush of emotion his thoughtful words bring on. “Yep.”

  “Liar.”

  The humor laced with the softness of his tone makes the corners of my lips tip up slightly. Still avoiding his gaze, I shake my head with a sigh. “You don’t want me to answer that honestly, Kane.”

  “I reckon I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want an honest answer.”

  My shoulders droop a bit and I shift toward him, my chair’s wheels moving against the smooth floor while I meet his gaze. “I don’t know how much longer I can do this,” I admit, my voice tremulous. He watches me as I continue. “It’s not like I can continue scheduling him like this. I mean, it’s been two weeks. He’s bound to get tired of it.”

  “But he’s doing his job.” Kane shrugs. “Just hammering out more jobs and closing more deals on new contracts in a shorter amount of time than he usually would. Not a huge difference there.”

  “True. But I know it’s exhausting.” Letting out a sigh, I lean back in my chair, letting my eyes fall closed. “There’s going to come a time—likely soon—when he’s had enough of the crazy, back-to-back scheduling.”

  “Or maybe he’s taking advantage of it. Escapism at its best.” He pauses, letting the strong insinuation sink in further. “Like someone else we know.”

  His meaning is clear: Me.

  “You haven’t been around to socialize with anyone and it’s been noticed.”

  I fix him with a hard glare, tossing up my hands in protest. “Can you honestly blame me? I can’t be around him, Kane. Not yet. Especially not around everyone else and pretend like everything’s hunky dory. Because,” my voice catches, becoming hoarse, “it’s not.”

  Damn it. I’m about to cry at work. Way to be professional, Noelle.

  Spinning the wheels of my chair back around to face my computer, elbow on my desk, I bury my face in my hands, attempting to calm myself. So caught up in trying to tamp down my emotions, I jump at the feel of hands settling on my shoulders.

  “Hey, come here.”

  “No. I’m a freaking mess.”

  “Get over here, Davis.” Kane says this with a mixture of command and humor.

  With a huff, I stand and face him, only to be pulled into his embrace, pressed against his hard chest while his thick arms wrap around me. And that’s when it happens. That’s when the tears break free.

  “Damn it,” I mumble against his shirt, realizing he’s going to have a damp spot if I don’t move. But when I try to lean back, his arms tighten.

  “If you think a woman’s tears on my shirt are going to make me upset, then you’ve got another thing coming.” There’s a brief pause. “No one should ever make you cry, Noelle. Least of all a man. And I’ll be honest with you,” his voice is gentle, “if it were any other guy, I’d be the first in line to beat his ass for making you cry.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I sniffle before continuing. “But it’s Foster so you can’t. I get it.”

  “No. That’s not it. At all.” His response surprises me, so much I raise my head to look up at him. He appears sad and very un-Kane-like; not his usual jovial self. He raises his hands, using his thumbs to swipe at the tears on my cheeks. “It’s not that I don’t plan on beating his ass. It’s the fact that I know Fos, and I think he needs a reality check first before his ass kicking happens.”

  My confusion at his words must be evident because he goes on to elaborate. “He’s needed to take the necessary steps to move past what happened on his last mission for quite a while, now. While I don’t worry about him making a snap decision to eat a bullet one day like I’ve worried about a few other guys I’ve served with, I know he still needs to deal with his demons. He’s not going to be able to do anything until that happens.

  “But, make no mistake, he’s feeling your absence. He’s noticed what he’s lost. I can tell. And you’d best understand he’s going to catch some serious hell from me for making you cry, darlin’.” The corners of his lips curve up ever so slightly.

  Before I can respond, I hear the door to the office open and heavy footsteps draw to a halt.

  “Am I interrupting?”

  Freaking fantastic. Speak of the devil himself.

  Chapter Fifty-Five

  Foster

  Ever since Noelle left me standing in my bedroom two weeks ago, it feels like the air got sucked out of my life. In the blink of an eye, she was gone. No calls, no text messages, no visits to my place. And certainly no banter with her at work. Hell, she’s been scheduling me so hard I barely have time to breathe. Even though I know it’s smart for us to have as little interaction as possible, it doesn’t ease that damn nagging ache in my chest.

  And to add to that ache in my chest, I now want to fucking rip Kane Windham’s arms and legs from his body. Just for touching Noelle.

  “Am I interrupting?” My biting sarcasm can’t be missed. Stepping forward, I’m ready to lay into Kane but the moment Noelle turns her head to look at me, I falter, instantly feeling like there’s a thousand-pound weight on my chest, recognizing the signs of tear tracks on her face.

  “Got a moment to head to lunch, boss?” Kane asks. “I have a question about one of these new safety implementations.”

  As long as you fucking remove your hands from her, I internally yell. Instead, my lips barely move as I speak, clenching my jaw hard. “Sure thing.” Walking over to set my files down on my desk, I hear him say softly, “Chin up, gorgeous.”

  My spine stiffens and upon finding I don’t—for once—have any voicemails waiting for me, I slide my sunglasses back down over my eyes before I turn back toward them. Heading to the door, I call out, “Ready, Windham?”

  “Ready as ever.” And, hell, if his answer doesn’t sound ominous as hell. “Want me to bring you something back, darlin’?” he offers Noelle and it pisses me off because:

  I should be the one to make that offer.

  I can’t offer it because she and I aren’t on good terms any more.

  Kane had better not be getting any thoughts about pursuing her.

  When she declines, I let out an internal sigh of relief. As twisted as it might be, I don’t want him—or any other guy—helping her, getting her food, or being there for her. I want it to be me, damn it.

  God, I’m so fucked up, it isn’t even funny.

  * * *

  “You’re awfully quiet over there, Fos.” Kane eyes me with a smirk that makes my fingers itch to slap it off his face. “Been staring at that burger for a while.”

  I look down at the burger in question to avoid his
gaze. I’ve been distracted, lost in my own head thinking about the last time I was here for lunch. With Noelle.

  “Don’t start,” I warn.

  “Sorry ’bout your luck, darlin’, but I’m starting now.” He leans his thick, muscled forearms on the table, lowering his voice so as to not be overheard by other patrons. “You need to get your shit in gear—before it’s too late.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You know exactly what I’m talking about. If you don’t act fast, you’ll end up losing the one person who can change your life for the better.” Just as I’m about to open my mouth and tell him I don’t need this, he throws up a hand to stop me. “You need to finally do what’s necessary to put Fallujah behind you, once and for all.”

  My jaw clenches at the mention of my last mission, and I glare at him accusingly. “What the hell do you know about that?”

  “I know enough, man. Know you did what was necessary to save the lives of your guys. But until you address that shit, you’re not going to be able to move on. It’s a choice. You either continue to suffer by staying the way you are, or suck it up and suffer the brief pain of changing for the better.”

  I stare down at my burger, unseeing, my voice muted. “I’m not good enough for her.”

  “Bullshit.”

  My head whips up at the hushed vehemence in Kane’s tone.

  “How do you feel when you’re with her? Does she make you feel like you’re not good enough?” he demands.

  “No,” I answer slowly, not entirely sure I know where he’s headed with this line of questioning. Gazing toward the ocean view across the street from us, I blow out a long breath. “She makes me feel like a better person when I’m with her.”

  “Because she loves you—the way you are.”

  I don’t respond, instead caught up in the memory of Noelle’s words weeks ago. “…you’re missing out on me. Someone who loves you, someone who would love you … forever.” Only two weeks have passed and I fucking hate life and everything about it. Because she’s no longer a part of it.

  “You need to take this. He’s top notch.” I look over to see Kane offering up a business card stuck between his index and middle finger. My eyes flicker to the card and back up to Kane. I know what card this is, and I don’t like it one bit. Even so, I reach out slowly to accept it, glancing down at the name printed on it.

  Rolling my lips inward, I stare at it. Running my thumb over the writing, I know this is it. It’s time to deal with the past.

  “You going to follow through?”

  Without looking up, I nod slowly. “I’ll follow through.”

  “You want me to come with you?”

  My eyes dart up in surprise, expecting Kane to be joking, giving me shit like normal, but that’s not the case. He’s sincere.

  “No, I’ll be good.” With a sigh, I pull out my wallet and tuck the business card safely inside.

  “It’s time I man up and do this once and for all.”

  Chapter Fifty-Six

  Noelle

  “What the hell is this?” My entire body jolts at the accusatory tone in Foster’s voice. Shit, I was hoping he’d be too overwhelmed with our new site contracts and wouldn’t come across my resignation until after I left for the day.

  Attempting to calm my nerves, I take a deep breath before I answer, my eyes trained on the document I’m currently working on. “It’s my resignation letter.”

  There’s a beat of silence. Then, “I can see that.” Pause. “You’ve got another job lined up?”

  “I don’t feel comfortable discussing this with you.” Hell, even I’m amazed at how calm and composed I sound.

  “So you’re just planning on up and leaving us?”

  Something in his tone sets me off and I find myself gritting my teeth. “I’m giving you far more notice than necessary, Kavanaugh.”

  Which is true. My new job doesn’t have a start date for another month. I’ve already suffered through staying here for nearly two months, and it’s been torture. Absolute freaking torture. Offering a month’s notice on my resignation wasn’t my idea but I know it’s smart since my new job won’t be starting at the same pay scale as this one. I’d like to have some savings, just in case.

  “Well, we’ll all … miss you.”

  I can’t withhold the derisive sound I make at his comment. “I’m sure.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  My entire body stills in shock not just at his words but at the underlying tenderness to them. Still refusing to meet his gaze, I force myself not to react. Hearing his chair slide back, he stands and clears his throat. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ve got to get going.”

  My eyes dart down to the bottom corner of my computer screen, noting the time. Every single Tuesday and Thursday for the past eight weeks, Foster leaves at three o’clock in the afternoon. I recall his original request for me to block out these particular times on the schedule, and when I asked which site he would be at he informed me that it wasn’t work-related. He’s been tight-lipped about it, as has everyone else. If they know anything about it, that is, which it seems they don’t.

  Was it a date? A booty call? Has he already started seeing someone else? But what was the deal with Tuesdays and Thursdays at three in the afternoon?

  And why am I even wasting time thinking about this? It doesn’t matter anymore. He doesn’t matter anymore.

  Yeah, right. I swear, it feels like Foster Kavanaugh will always matter to me.

  If only I’d matter to him, too.

  * * *

  I refuse to look at him the entire time we’re sitting there in that courtroom. The only things I care about now are moving on with my life, him being sentenced and locked away, and trying to forget that I was ever naïve enough to believe what we had was true love.

  What a freaking joke.

  Laney reaches over to link her arm through mine as we walk out of the courtroom after Brad’s sentencing, confirming he’ll be in jail for a minimum of eight years.

  “You holding up okay, sweetie?”

  Part of me doesn’t know how to answer her because if she’s referring to Brad, then yes. If she’s referring to her brother, that would be the complete other end of the spectrum.

  A firm hell, no.

  Laney and the rest of the group made it a point to show up today, to offer their support by just being here for me. I’m not even sure how Kane, Miller, Doc and Lee managed to finagle their schedules to be here, but they did. And it makes it even more difficult knowing I’ll be leaving these incredible people behind, not getting to see them every day at work and often be included in their affectionate banter.

  There was one person who didn’t show up, of course. I swore I felt his presence at one point, but when I didn’t catch sight of him, I realized I was being delusional. I’m caught between being grateful he didn’t and … both surprised and hurt that he hadn’t shown up.

  Guess I really don’t matter to him after all.

  As we step outside the courthouse, they all gather around me, and I thank everyone for stopping by and supporting me. As most of them begin to leave, waving their goodbyes, Laney steers me off to the side with her, while my eyes drift over the crowd of people exiting the courthouse, down the steps that head to the large parking lot.

  “Looking for someone?”

  My heard jerks to Laney. “No.”

  Of course, she knows I’m lying. With a small smile tinged with sadness, she tips her head to the side. “He was here, you know.”

  Shock reverberates through me, but I say nothing, knowing I won’t be able to manage words without my throat closing up on me. I can’t talk about Foster. It just hurts too much.

  “He left just before us. I sent him a text to see why he didn’t wait for us to walk out, but he said he didn’t want to upset you.”

  All I can do is offer a short nod in response. “Thanks, Laney, for everything.” I squeeze her hand affectionately. “I’ve got to get going.”
<
br />   “Call me if you need anything, okay?”

  “Okay. Thanks, again.” I turn away to make my way out of the courthouse and down the steps to the parking lot where my car is waiting.

  And the entire time, I swear I can feel him watching me. I don’t look, can’t bear to, but I know he’s watching me get into my car. He’s probably doing it out of some weird sense of duty or obligation, but he doesn’t realize it hurts me even more. Makes me feel like I’m unable to escape him—escape this hold he still has on me.

  It’s then I know I did the right thing by resigning. It’s the only way I can possibly try and move on from this.

  But how do you move on from someone who has your heart and won’t give it back?

  Chapter Fifty-Seven

  Foster

  “You’re a fucking creeper, Kavanaugh,” I berate myself as I sit in my truck, watching Noelle make her way to her car, the slight breeze tousling her blond hair. Even behind those dark sunglasses of hers, I know her eyes are weary after what went on in that courtroom. She hadn’t looked over at Brad once, had sat there, spine straight and regal even as I knew she hated being there.

  There was no way in hell I was going to miss being there—even if she didn’t want me to be. Regardless of what happened between us, I didn’t want her to be in that asshole’s presence without me around in some vicinity. I hadn’t told anyone I was planning on showing up—aside from my sister, of course. She had bombarded me with text messages last night.

  Laney: I’m texting because if I call you, I’ll only start yelling at you for hurting Noelle. You’re an asshole, by the way. I still love you but you ARE an asshole. So. Are you coming tomorrow?

  Me: To the courthouse? Yes, I’ll be there.

  Laney: You going to try and talk to Noelle?

  Me: No.

  Laney: Still have your head up your ass, I see.

  Letting out a long sigh, I shake my head. I’m working on pulling it out.

  Laney: That sounds decidedly gross and sexual. Yuck.