Page 31

TWENTY

COURTNEY

The moment I step outside my apartment, I freeze.

I’m standing right in front of his door.

Auguste's door.

I don’t know why I didn’t hear it before, but now it feels so loud . The fact that he lives across the hall from me—right here. So close. I can almost hear him breathing through the walls.

I stare at his door for what feels like an eternity. My heart pounding in my chest. My thoughts are a swirl of noise.

Last night was a clusterfuck. From the moment I accepted the invitation to go to the bar, to the moment I walked away from him.

This morning, everything still is a shitshow of gargantuan proportions.

My head and my heart are saying two very different things.

One—not my head—has no sense of self preservation.

Otherwise, I wouldn’t be standing here. Staring at Auguste’s door like it holds the answers to all my problems.

At least more than Delilah did because for all the talk she gave me about setting boundaries and not allowing myself to fall into the same trap as my mom, she still managed to make me question every promise I have ever made myself with one question;

If I am not falling for Auguste, why am I so angry that he omitted the fact he lives right there?

And why do I keep saying omitted like it’s not a passive way of saying he lied? Auguste lied to me.

I force myself to look away, my feet moving without me telling them to because I know what this is. I’ve seen it before. The red flags are there. The warning signs .

Just like they were there with Martin.

At one point he was sweet, too. Charming. He made Mom feel special. But once he had her? He turned on her. Controlled her. And I won't let that be my story.

I can’t let Auguste do this to me.

I keep telling myself this as I wait for the elevator. Anxious to escape something I’ve allowed to grow too close. I don’t want to feel the weight of what’s been between us. I don’t want to think about how good it felt.

How right it felt.

The elevator doors ping open and I rush inside before I go completely mad and do something I’ll regret.

“Oh, shit, I’m sorry,” a husky female voice chuckles when I bounce off the tall figure. Cold water sloshes onto my chest as she pulls back and gives me a wide smile. “My bad, girl let me?—”

“No.” I pull back, taking in the woman. “It’s fine.”

She’s beautiful. Her honey brown braids frame her face with colorful charms woven into her hair that make her hazel eyes more striking than they already are.

My chest constricts around my lungs when Auguste’s door opens and Samson’s nails scramble on the stone floor. My heart can’t take the sound. Tears flood my eyes as I move around the statuesque woman in front of me and hideout in the corner.

Of course, the little mite finds me. His paws scratch at my legs, begging me for attention like he did last night with his puppy yaps. I swear they sound different already. A little deeper.

Samson squirms between my legs until I crouch to greet him. Then he’s leaping into my arms and licking my face as another tall shadow stands in the way of the doors.

Auguste.

His feet are large and bare in my line of sight while I hug Sammy to my chest and stand.

For a moment his eyes are all I see. Pleading.

Dark. Tired. The man standing in front of me looks exactly how I feel on the inside, and I’m slammed with the urge to hug him.

The same urge that overwhelmed me the other night when he showed up at my door with Samson. When he cooked for me. Took care of me.

The tall woman looks between us and presses a kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll just… umm…” She hooks a thumb over her shoulder towards his apartment. “Seriously, sorry about the spillage.”

“No problem.”

My stare follows her to his door as I hug Samson tighter. Her denim shorts cut off at the curve of her ass and the black bralet just covers her boobs.

She’s standing in his open doorway as he tells me, “That’s Sabine…”

I nod.

“My sister… not some random girl.”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

His thick lips press together into a pout that makes him look young and vulnerable and beautiful. So handsome.

“I know, but…” Auguste pauses, taking Samson from me when I hold him out to him. Warm hands envelop mine, and in a hushed rumble, he starts, “Court…”

“No, Auguste. Not right now.” I shake my head and step back, making my message clear—the conversation he wants to have is not going to happen.

It’s his turn to nod while he pulls back, Samson cradled in his arms like an overgrown baby.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers so quietly that he’s practically mouthing the words to me before he ambles backwards to his door.

The elevator is shutting when I hear his sister ask, “Who was that?”

“My neighbor.”

“Are you two a thing?”

“No.”

“Is that why you’re so tortured right now? She’s cute,” Sabine giggles and he growls in response, “What the fuck are you wearing?”

The elevator starts going down before I can hear anything else.

As much as my chest aches at the picture of his dejected expression etched into my thoughts, there’s a small flutter at his grumbled remark about his sister’s clothes.

It’s so Auguste, so natural that it eases some of the resentment cloying my feelings.

Maybe Delilah is right. Perhaps his intention is not to control, but to care and genuinely protect the people he cares about.

It’s a freeing thought to have as I step out of the elevator and head outside to my waiting Uber.

However, it’s also the scariest realization to hit me. Because if I can’t be someone he cares about. My time in LA is on a countdown.

Lunch with Dad is hard today. Especially when I can’t focus on the conversation. Every string of our conversation is tangled up with Auguste.

“What do you think?” I’m forking my salad trying to get my thoughts to align when he asks again, “Off the cuff, honey. How’s the team looking to you?”

“Good.” I give up on forcing myself to finish the cobb salad he brought from home. “Team looks set.”

“I have a feeling in my bones that it’s going to be a big year for us. Although, with Sylkes’ migraines playing up… and Bruce has been distracted lately. Couldn’t get him to focus at all today…”

“His sister is in town. Probably just excited.”

“Maybe… I hope so…”

Shit.

My heart is lodged in my throat as I ask, “You don’t think so?”

“Bruce is razor-focused. Normally.” There’s a pause as he wipes his mouth and closes his tupperware. “He’s not himself… something’s been going on for weeks.”

“That’s…” My fault. I cringe internally, wiping my mouth to hide my frown.

“Anyway, how’s everything going? Are you still enjoying the experience? Getting what you want out of it? I heard some of the guys talking about last night. Did you have fun?”

I nod. “It was nice hanging out with the team. Cecelia was there so I wasn’t the only female, and everyone has been so nice to me.”

“That’s a whole lot of nice there, Court. I’m not sure it’s a good thing?” Blue eyes narrow on me with an assessing perusal.

“Normally, I only go out with Delilah. So it was different. Enjoyable, though.”

Dad chuckles, reaching across his desk to move my hair from my face. “Great practice for your move to New Orleans. Making new friends and… yeah, good on you, honey.”

The proud smile on his face hits me square in the chest. Wrenching at my insides with the proof that not all men are the same. This man is exactly how he’s always been—good. Like his judgement.

And he cares for Auguste. A lot.

“You okay, kiddo?” Dad’s face cants into my line of sight when I focus on the tupperware in front of me. His hand hovers over mine on the desk before he places it next to mine.

“Mhmmm… yeah. Totally. It’s been a whirlwind five weeks. But I’m glad I came,” I add so he knows I’m grateful for the opportunity he gave me . “It’s been good to get hands-on experience outside of the college gazette.”

“Good. I’m glad.”

“Me, too,” I say, moving my hand over his with a little squeeze. “I’m glad we’re doing this, you know?”

He nods, then quirks an eyebrow. “Maybe you can come visit more often, and I can visit you in New Orleans during breaks and holidays.”

“I would love that.”

Gosh damn, my eyes are getting teary at the shift the conversation has taken.

Dad smiles, turning his palm up to mine. “I saw the studio you sent me. It’s very quaint, but the area doesn’t have the best reputation. I know you want to support yourself and be a grown up on your own…”

There’s a but coming, and he’s pulling that tentative grimace that says I’m not going to like it.

“Look, I know you’re probably going to say no. Before you do, just think about it, okay?”

“About what?”

“I’d like to get you a place closer to The Crescents’ facilities. A nicer apartment with an actual bedroom…”

“Dad…”

“Please just think about it. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy and you can choose the place. Let me just make sure that you’re safe…”

My mouth dries at his words. Similar words to the ones Auguste said last night.

Let me make sure you get home safe…

I smile, trying to cover up my overwhelmed emotions. “Daddy… you’ve done so much for me already. This job, the apartment… the meals you sent my first week here. That was so sweet and?—”

“Meals? What meals?” He looks at me, confused.

“The UberEats orders. I thought...”

My voice trails off as I recall the note.

Oh my God.

The ‘R’ could have been a rushed B… or even an A. It was just a freaking squiggle.

The realization hits me like a sucker punch. The UberEats meals were from Auguste. Another thing he hid from me, another nice thing, a kind gesture and he didn’t say a thing. Asked for nothing in return. When there and then, his actions meant the world.

“Honey, are you sure you’re okay? ”

I quickly dismiss his concern. “Yes. Absolutely… still lagging from the late night. No more partying for me.”