Page 49 of Unbound

Sybil gives me a horrified look. “Caleb who drives a forklift?” She lifts both hands, waggling them around between us. “Fingernail, Caleb?” Her mouth gapes, horror deepening. “Do you hate me too? Why would you even say that?”

Good fucking question. I wish I knew.

Sybil rests one hand over her mouth. “I feel a little sick thinking about that.” She shudders. “Do you know the kind of infection a woman could get from those fingernails?”

I understand she’s probably not thrilled over this conversation, but I have to admit, her reaction is making me feel a hell of a lot better. “I fired him.”

After years of auditing and editing every word I say, it seems like I’ve developed a sudden, urgent, uncontrollable case of diarrhea of the mouth. And the shit I’m spewing is going to make one hell of a mess.

Sybil drops the hand covering her mouth. “You fired him? Why?”

I try to clam up. Do everything possible to seal my lips together in a way that used to be so easy. But I want to tell her. I want her to know what he said and that I handled it. That I will never let anyone talk that way about her. Or her alter ego.

I turn away, grabbing my coffee just as it finishes brewing. I’ve got to do something to stop myself from talking to her. It’s too easy. Too comfortable. I can’t get used to it. Not only because she’s going to leave at some point, but also because if I’m not careful, one of our conversations could move into an area I am not equipped to navigate.

I toss back a mouthful of what might as well be caffeinated lava, nearly spitting it back into the cup as it makes my eyes water. Choking it down, I take another swallow, shake my head, and pull in a deep breath. Between the burn and the oxygen, I think I’ve got it together. Feel like I can push everything back down where it belongs and move forward.

Then I turn to face her, and all my hard work is gone in the blink of an eye because I can’t seem to keep my mouth shut when she’s looking at me like she does.

“I fired him because he was saying inappropriate shit about you.”

Sybil’s brows lift, her mouth falling open. “Oh.” Her eyes move to the door leading out into the warehouse before coming back to me. “What did he say? Am I going to be grossed out?”

“He said he fucked you. That you begged for it.” I’m getting pissed all over again and heavily considering hunting Caleb down so I can make it clear what happens to men who talk about women the way he talked about Sybil.

“That is disgusting.” Sybil’s nose wrinkles. “I know I’m in the middle of a very long dry spell, but I would rather never touch a man again than let that one put his hands on me.”

I’m supposed to be relieved that she’s horrified by the thought of Caleb touching her—and I am. I’m just a little more focused on the dry spell part of what she said.

“Why are you in the middle of a dry spell?”

“I think Caleb is a prime example of why.” She shrugs. “And I’m not exactly the kind of girl most guys chase.”

That doesn’t make any sense. “Why would you think that?”

“I don’t think it. I know it. I’ve been told straight to my face by more than one man that I’m not girlfriend material.” She makes a weird brushing gesture, like she can dust off the comments. “I get it. I’m a lot. I have a tendency to hyperfocus on crazy things and forget what I’m doing when something else catches my attention.” Her eyes squint as she considers. “I also think I might occasionally jump into things without fully knowing what I’m getting into.”

I snort. Then choke a little. Then, for some godforsaken reason, I start laughing. First I can’t keep my mouth shut, and now I’m fucking laughing?

Who the hell am I?

“Yeah, yeah. Go ahead and laugh at me.” Sybil starts bringing her hair toward the top of her head the way she does when she gets frustrated and wants it out of her face. “I probably deserve it.”

I don’t want her thinking I’m laughing at her. I am, but I’m not. Not the way she thinks.

I grab one of her wrists as she aggressively tries to shove the thick mass of her blonde hair into a hairband. “It’s not like that.” Carefully unwinding her fingers, I pull both hands away before going to work smoothing down the silky strands she just assaulted. “I wasn’t laughing at you.”

Sybil stands very still as I finger-comb her locks. “Well, I wasn’t laughing, so you sure weren’t laughing with me.”

She’s right, but my laugh wasn’t so much about her as it was me.

“I was laughing because I’ve never jumped into anything, and it’s fucking ridiculous.” All the tangles are out of her hair and it’s smooth and soft, but I can’t stop dragging my fingers through it. “All I do is think through shit and obsess over what I could be getting into.” And then decide it’s not worth the effort or the risk. “And then I never do any of it.”

Sybil’s blue eyes move over my face. “But you started this company, right? That’s a pretty big thing.”

“I started this company by accident.” I know I should stop touching her, but I can’t. The connection seems to ground me as I explain a little of what led me to where I am now. “I took a job installing security cameras for a local company after I graduated high school.” The tips of my fingers trace along her jawline. “It was supposed to be temporary while I decided what I wanted to go to college for, but there was nothing I ever found interesting enough to commit five years of my life to learning about. So I just kept installing cameras.”

And I didn’t hate it. I liked the consistency. Liked knowing what would happen every day when I got up.