Page 68 of Bossy Wicked Prince

Cat

Yes, forwarded it to you again! All the details are on your calendar.

She’s only responded to work texts and emails. Anything personal, and she doesn’t reply.

Fuck, what did I do wrong?

When Cat canceled our date last minute, I assumed she wasn’t feeling well. But when she didn’t explain the next day, I started to suspect something was up. Her behavior since has all but confirmed it.

I thought things were going so well between us. When I close my eyes, I can still see her satiated face after she swallowed my cock. Was she upset that I left her asleep alone on the couch? Her texts from that morning made it seem like she didn’t mind. Did she reconsider after she had a few hours?

There has to be something she isn’t telling me. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that everyone has secrets—even the people you trust the most.

I just wish I could get an answer from her in person. Unfortunately, the UPS Thanksgiving schedule means she won’t be back in the office until after the holiday. For the first time, I regret giving our employees such a generous holiday package.

Maybe I should go down to the shelter and see if she’s there. I can always say I’m checking on what they’ve done with my donation. But what if I show up, and she ignores me there, too? I can’t stalk Cat into dating me.

Enough. I can’t keep staring at my phone, pathetically hoping she’ll say something.

Taking a gulp from my water bottle, I move over to the weight rack and start loading plates on the dumbbell. I wasn’t supposed to lift today, but I need a distraction. Once I’ve got 300 pounds on the bar, I lie down on the bench.

The first rep makes my muscles light up, sending a burst of energy through my body. Endorphins flow through me, and I grin. This is exactly what I need.

My second and third reps are tough, and by the time I get to the fourth, I’m straining to push the barbell up. Fuck, I’ve overestimated myself. I’m drained from the cardio, and I don’t have any fuel in my system from breakfast. I should rack the weights and end the set early.

But I don’t.

Some punishing impulse tells me to keep going and get to six reps.

I press the barbell up again, and halfway up, my muscles fail. The weight falls on my chest, knocking the wind out of me and making my vision go black for a second. I scramble to lift the weight off me, but I can’t get my arms to work. My lungs burn as I gasp for breath.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Ryan says.

Then he and James are next to me, lifting up the dumbbell and putting it back on the rack. Ryan pulls me up to sitting,putting his arm around my shoulders to keep me up. James rummages in his gym bag, pulling out a bag of electrolyte gummies. He shoves it into my hand, watching me until I put one in my mouth and chew it.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I rasp. “I’m fine.”

“What the hell were you thinking, lifting like that without a spotter?” Ryan demands. He doesn’t even bother hiding the worry in his expression. I might give him shit about his love life, but part of me admires the way Ryan can be so openly affectionate, to women and to his friends.

How can I tell him that I was giving into self-destructive impulses, overworking my body to try and forget about a girl who isn’t even interested in me?

“I wasn’t thinking. I figured I could handle it,” I tell him.

James narrows his eyes, and I know he doesn’t buy it. He just points to the bag of gummies in my hand and says, “Eat up, Walsh.”

“Oh wait, what happened with your mom and Cat?” Ryan asks.

My brow furrows. “My mom? What’re you talking about?”

“Yesterday, Luke and I were coming back from happy hour and Eleanor practically ran us over on our way in the building. She looked like someone pissed in her corn flakes.”

Oh, fuck.

I have a horrified suspicion where this is going.

“Then when we went over to the elevator, Cat came out, and her whole face was red,” he continues. “I tried to ask what made her so upset, but I don’t think she even heard me. I figured one thing was related to the other.”