Page 24 of Ugly Duckling (Content Advisory #6)

Eighteen

Sometimes I read a text and think, “what a psycho” and then hit send.

—Sutton to her mom

SUTTON

“Think I could get you to do it again tomorrow?”

I turned over onto my side to look at him. “Of course. What’s going on, though? You said you had a day off tomorrow when you were feeding us dinner.”

He hesitated for a few long seconds before he said, “One of my first hires, Yates, you met him. He has been calling in a lot lately, dropping the ball on the project that I let him lead. He’s been gone more than he’s been there, and I have a really bad feeling about him.”

“What kind of bad feeling?” I wondered.

He scrubbed at his face. “The kind where I think that he’s responsible for some of the leaked information to the Combs.”

My mouth dropped open, and even in the dark, he saw.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “I know. I wouldn’t have believed it, but today while I was doing his job, I had a lot of time on my hands to do some thinking.

And the only person who had any idea of how late I picked Lottie up, besides myself, was him.

I remember for a fact that no one else was around, and the old guy they have following me around is easy to spot.

He drives a Cyber Truck, for Christ’s sake.

He’s hard to miss. So I know that he wasn’t there that day. ”

“Shit.” I sighed. “What else makes you think this?”

“He got a brand-new truck last month, and I know that he wasn’t planning on getting a new one any time soon because he was in the hole like twenty-eight grand on the one he was driving.

His ex-wife likes new vehicles, so he just got her one whenever.

But he said that he couldn’t do it anymore after the last one because they were too far upside down.

He needed to pay this one down before he could get a new one.

That was why they divorced. Over a new car.

Then all of a sudden, he has a new one?”

I hated this for him.

“Shit.”

“Shit’s right,” he mumbled. “His ex-wife is a huge pain in the ass. I’m talking a massive, screeching harpy of a woman.

I had to take away Yates’s company phone because his ex-wife was using it as her own personal hotline.

Half the time, Yates wouldn’t even have it if he was at work.

She came up here raving and ranting to me, accusing me of not giving him a phone because she was using it when he ‘wasn’t.

’ Yates had to physically carry her out of the school we were in at the time.

He was so embarrassed. Yet, he stayed with her because he loved her—still does, actually.

And I think that if someone, like the Combs, gave him the opportunity to make easy money like that, he’d take them up on it.

” He sighed and rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

“Then he lied about having a death in the family. His father or something. And I know Yates doesn’t have any family left.

They’re all gone. Even his wife doesn’t have any family members left. ”

“Dammit.” I poked him in the chest. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Call him to a meeting the next time that I’m with him and confront him,” he admitted as he caught my hand in between both of his and started to slowly massage my palm.

“Which is going to really fucking suck, because I hate confronting Yates. It’s like kicking a puppy.

He gets yelled at so much by his ex-wife that he can’t stand confrontation. Plus, he’s one of my best employees.”

“But is he one of your best employees? Or is he just a friend that took advantage of your kindness?” I challenged him.

He hit a particularly sore spot on my thumb, and I groaned.

“You have a knot here,” he said as he changed the subject.

“Sadly, that’s pretty normal for me. My hands cramp all the time when I give manicures,” I explained. “It’s like my body’s way of telling me that painting nails isn’t the best thing for me.”

“How long have you been doing it again?” he asked.

The way he sounded so genuinely curious had me answering honestly.

“Mom and Dad had no idea just how bad it was for me at school,” I said quietly.

“So I got a job really early on, because I wanted to get into a work program so I didn’t have to stay so long at school.

I got a job at the oldest nail salon in town, too, because I knew that none of the students would be caught dead there.

I was nearly seventeen when I got the job. ”

“I actually think that I know the one you’re talking about,” he said as he yawned. “Was it the one behind Super One? The one that always looks closed down?”

“That’s the one,” I confirmed. “You have no idea how busy it gets. There are so many regulars there, and they hate change. They wouldn’t be caught dead at the newer one across town.”

“Is this what you want to do with the rest of your life?” he asked. “What you’re doing?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I don’t know,” I admitted. “But it’s something for now.”

“How do you feel about filing?” he teased. “Or answering phones?”

I slipped one hand out of his grasp and handed him the other.

He took over without another word before I replied with, “Hate and loathe.”

He groaned. “What is it going to take to find someone who doesn’t mind talking on the phone all day?”

“A birth of a new generation that doesn’t think talking on the phone is the worst thing in the world,” I teased.

“It sucks so bad.” He started to pull on my fingers, popping the joints.

“I heard popping your fingers was bad for you,” I said as he popped my thumb.

The sharp crack of my joint releasing had a quick smirk coming over his face.

“I think that’s a myth,” he murmured as he moved in closer to me. “Come closer, let me pop your back.”

I tilted my head at him, but still moved closer so he could get to me. “That’s really random.”

“It is,” he agreed as I moved even farther into his arms. “But from there, I can say that I was popping your back for you. But when I’m done, I’ll keep holding onto you because that’s right where I want you. And later, when I wake up with you wrapped around me, I’m going to take advantage of you.”

I liked the way his mind worked.

Probably more than I should.

“You have this all planned out, don’t you?” I asked as he wrapped me in a tight hug.

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, and groaned when he popped my spine with only the power of his arms.

“That felt good,” I murmured as I found the perfect spot for my head between his chin and his shoulder.

“I know,” he muttered sleepily. “It felt good that I got that kind of pop out of you, too. The satisfaction is real.”

I snickered. “What’s your obsession with popping your joints, anyway?”

“Habit, maybe,” he admitted as he nuzzled my hair.

I ran my nose along the bare skin of his chest. “A nervous habit. Why are you nervous right now, Gun?”

And why was I so nervous?

Then again, I was lying to myself if I didn’t admit why I was nervous. I knew damn well and good why I was nervous.

Because I wanted things with Gunner that a woman who was so recently divorced shouldn’t want. Not to mention, I was his roommate. If this went bad, I’d have to scramble to find something suitable, or I’d have to put on my hat of shame and move back into my parents’ house.

I shouldn’t want him to be wrapping his arms around me in my bedroom in his house.

I shouldn’t want him to leave his kid with me so he went to work, and I could pretend that she was mine, and we could live happily ever after together.

I shouldn’t be happy that he showed up at my track workout today and made it a whole lot less miserable just by his presence alone.

Suffering with someone always was more fun…

Yet, here I was, wanting all of those things with this man.

I wanted to wake up in his arms.

I wanted to hang out all day with his kid tomorrow.

I wanted to text him to see how he was doing.

I wanted everything when it came to Gunner, and to be quite honest, always had.

Now that I was pretty enough…maybe, just maybe, I could have him.

Admitting that to myself felt like a lead weight had settled inside my chest.

Because, deep down, I was still that ugly girl who knew she’d never be able to pull a man like Gunner.

A man like…

“Hey,” Gunner said, turning us so that his forehead was pressed against mine. “Are you even listening to me?”

Was he talking?

“Um, I might’ve missed it,” I admitted.

Please don’t ask why I missed it. Please, please, please.

“Where’s your mind at?” he asked.

Of course he’d ask.

He was always very much aware of my state of mind.

Even when we were young kids, he knew when I was having a hard day.

But instead of hiding what I was thinking about, I went ahead and told him.

He might as well be aware of where I was at.

“I was thinking that I wanted to be yours,” I admitted.

“I was thinking how awesome it would be to be on the back of your bike. To have you run every marathon I ever wanted to run with me for the rest of my life. I was thinking about how nice and caring and kind you are. I was also thinking about how I was finally attractive enough to be seen on your arm and the world not wonder what the hell was wrong with you for choosing me when you could have anyone.”

He drew in a deep breath. “If you would have been listening earlier, you would’ve heard why I was nervous.”

I stayed silent.

“Are you listening yet?”

I swallowed hard and nodded.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I need to hear the words, Sutton. I need you to hear what I have to say to you.”

I closed my eyes.

Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I felt the intensity of his gaze on me, even through the darkness.

“Yes,” I croaked. “I’m listening.”

“Then I want you to hear me bare my soul again,” he said. “I want you to listen to me when I tell you why I’m nervous.”

I swallowed audibly before saying, “I’m listening.”

“I’m nervous because I shouldn’t want this,” he rasped, his nose running along the apple of my cheek.

“I should give you the space that you need. I shouldn’t be worming my way into your life because you literally just had the worst thing in the world happen to you.

The man that was supposed to be your ride or die proved that he wouldn’t ride or die for you.

He hurt you. Badly. Both physically and mentally.

And here I am, knowing that you’re not in the right headspace, realizing that I finally have you exactly where I want you, and moving in when I know that you need time to heal.

But I don’t want to give you time to heal.

I let you go in high school because I had too much on my plate.

I should’ve made a move, and didn’t. I thought my baggage was too much, and didn’t want to ruin your life or your future by being saddled to a high school almost dropout with a kid.

Now, here I am, in almost the same predicament, with a three-year-old and I’m forcing you to move in with me.

I have you taking care of her when I shouldn’t.

You literally almost had to lie in court and say that we were getting married so that I could have an easier time fighting for my kid.

And I let you. I fuckin’ let you, because I’m tired of doing the right thing when it comes to you. ”

I inhaled sharply, but still didn’t speak.

“And then you tell me that, since you’re finally what you consider pretty enough, you think you have a chance.

” He growled. “Let me tell you something, Sutton Sway, you’ve always had a chance.

You had more of a chance than anyone ever, even when you considered yourself at your worst. Because it’s always been you.

Every woman I’ve dated since high school has always been compared to you.

When I saw you at that race last month, it was like everything was back to right in my chaotic world. ”

My body literally melted underneath his.

“I have so much shit swirling around in my life right now. The Combs trying to take Lottie away. Hell, Lottie showing up and tilting my world on its axis. I still wake up from nightmares where I go to pick up Jett, and he’s not there.

What fucking business do I have raising another kid? I’ve already proved that I can’t…”

“Jesus,” I said as I reversed our positions, my body now straddling his. I caught his hands and forced them above his head before I growled, “Enough.”

He went silent, and it was then that I realized that we were both panting.

“Jesus, we’re something, aren’t we?” I asked.

“If I could, I’d take the hurt and the pain.

And I know you’d do the same for me. But that’s not how life works.

We’re thrown into situations that no one can prepare us for, and we’ve both come out on the other side.

Maybe, just maybe, we should both let those insecurities go, and just live. We just…live.”

His hands went to my hips. “Are you telling me to stop overthinking everything?”

I laughed. “I would, but I know that would be futile. You and me seem to be the best overthinkers in the world. Maybe we should just…try not to think.”

“And how do you propose we do that?”