Page 17 of Unleashed

It wouldn’t be fair of me to ask her for that anyway. Not when I have so little to offer.

“Fuck.” I lean back in my seat, scrubbing one hand over my face as I rub at my burning eyes. I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here without blinking, but my corneas are starting to dry out.

I’m being fucking ridiculous. Selfish. Acting like I can have my cake and eat it too. I can’t. I tried that. Many times.

It didn’t fucking work.

I reach for my mouse, ready to close out the security footage, when a familiar form cuts across the screen. Maren always walks like she’s on a mission, cranking one arm for added momentum like it will help her move faster. That’s just how she’s walking across my computer screen now.

From the back portion of the lot.

Because I can’t seem to help myself when it comes to her, I back the feed up, following her reverse trajectory until I see why I couldn’t find her car this morning.

Maren didn’t drive her car. Instead of climbing from a four-door sedan, my little terror slides free of a minivan. A minivan with a body shape that’s just a little different.

Why in the hell is Maren driving a minivan? And what exactly is different about it? We modify plenty of vehicles here, but I can’t quite tell what’s been done to this particular unit.

Not from this feed anyway.

I start pulling up other views, zeroing in on the location where she parked. Finally, I manage to get a halfway decent look at the side, and something clicks. It’s an accessible van. One made to easily transport people with mobility issues who require wheelchairs or scooters.

But again, why in the hell is Maren driving a minivan? An accessible minivan, no less.

Is her car in the shop and she borrowed it from someone? Most people who own a van like that have it for a reason, and can’t just do without it.

It doesn’t make sense, and I don’t like it when shit doesn’t make sense. I know myself well enough to admit I’m going to have to figure out what’s going on.

I also know myself well enough to admit I’m more than a little relieved another man didn’t drive Maren to work this morning.

6

Maren

“What the fuck?” I’m so focused on the phone in my hand, I don’t notice someone’s standing next to my new van until there’s no way for me to turn back without being noticed. And seeing me run from him would give Trevor Bradshaw way too much enjoyment.

I take a deep breath, closing my eyes as I blow it out in an attempt to keep myself from overreacting.

It’s not gonna work, but I’m still going to try. Because I honestly don’t have time to fight with him right now. And I’m sure he’s been studying up on synonyms since our last argument, so he’ll probably hold his own longer than normal.

“Trevor, I’m tired. Can we do whatever this is later?” I have a group chat flooded with messages to catch up on, a sister to pick up, dinner to cook, laundry to do…

And apparently a drugstore shopping trip to make, because there’s been an outbreak of head lice at the preschool Zara attends.

Trevor obviously has no interest in taking pity on me, because instead of backing down, he starts firing off questions. “Why do you have this van?” He points to my new vehicle. “When did you get it?” Two questions must not be enough, because he adds yet another. “Where is your car?”

I can’t with him right now. Honestly, I’m not sure I could with anyone. Not even Brooke, and I love her. So instead of offering a snarky answer like it usually would, I don’t say anything. I choose not to engage.

Which is sort of groundbreaking for me. Definitely not a tactic I’ve tried before.

Using the fob, I unlock the doors, opening the front passenger door so I don’t have to throw my bags over the console. Trevor stands behind me, acting like an expectant child as I situate my purse and laptop case before closing the door. As I round the front, he stays close on my heels. Like a fucking shadow.

He better unshadow me, fast. Because with the mood I’m in, there’s a really good chance this shadow is going to end up under the tires of my new van. And that would be a shame, because I’m sure it would cause damage I’d have to repair. The last thing I want to deal with right now is not having a vehicle. Especially now that I’ve seen how much easier this particular vehicle makes my life.

Opening the driver’s door, I climb into the seat and reach for the handle, expecting to close him out. But somehow, Trevor’s managed to wedge his giant body in the opening, making it impossible for me to get enough leverage or momentum to accomplish anything.

I take another deep breath, since the last one actually worked pretty well, slowly blowing it out before meeting his eyes. “Can you please move?”

Damn. I am really growing as a person. Please isn’t a word I normally use. Especially not when a man is involved.