Page 63 of Driven (Driven 1)
This is how Haddie finds me moments later after being woken by my less-than-graceful entrance.
CHAPTER 18
The week has sucked so far. My applicants and select interviews for the new staff position at The House have been horrible. Unqualified. Underwhelming. Unexciting.
It might not help that my mind is not all here either. I’m tired because sleep comes in short bouts interrupted by confusing nightmares of Colton and Max interchanging. My subconscious is obviously having a field day with my emotions.
I’m cranky because I’m eating everything in sight, and yet I have no desire to go run and work off all of the excess calories that I’m stuffing in my mouth to abate my misery.
I’m irritable because Haddie is watching me like a hawk, calling me every hour to check up on me, and turning off Matchbox Twenty anytime she catches me listening to it.
I’m petulant because Teddy just forwarded me an email from Tawny listing all of the events that CD Enterprises is requesting my presence at to promote our new partnership. And that means that I will have to stand side by side with Colton, the sole cause of my current miserable state. Because despite the four days that have passed, nothing has helped to ease the ache radiating through my heart and soul from my last moments with Colton. I want to tell myself to get a grip, that we only knew each other a short time, but nothing works.
I still want him. I still feel him.
I’m pathetic.
The only personal contact I’ve had with Colton came via email the day after he dropped me off. He sent me a text saying:
“Whataya Want From Me” by Adam Lambert.
I listened to the song, confused by lyrics. He’s telling me that we’re not going to happen and yet he sends me a song asking me not to give up while he works his shit out. A part of me is pleased that he’s still communicating with me while the other part is sad that he just won’t let me lick my wounds in a corner by myself. I wasn’t even going to respond until I heard the song playing on Shane’s radio. My texted response was:
“Numb” by Usher
I was trying to tell him that until he confronts his same old modus operandi, nothing’s ever going to change, and he’s going to remain numb. He never replied, and I didn’t expect him to.
I sigh loudly, alone at the kitchen counter at The House. Zander is at a counseling session with Jackson, and the rest of the boys are at school for another two hours. I’m on my last stack of resumes that are even close to viable and am discouraged that only one of them is a possibility. That possibility is coming for an interview, but besides her, I’ve come across no one else even close to qualified.
The muffled sound of my cell phone ringing breaks me out of my trance. I scramble frantically to pick it up, my heart racing, hoping that it might be Colton even though we have not talked since Sunday night. My mind tells me it’s not going to be him while my heart still hopes that it is. Such a hopeless ritual but I do it nonetheless.
My screen says private caller and I answer it with a breathless “Hello.”
“Rylee?”
My heart swells at the rasp of his voice. Shock has me hesitating to respond. Pride has me wanting to make sure that the hitch in my voice is absent when I finally speak. “Ace?”
“Hi, Rylee.” The warmth mixed with relief in his voice has me shaking with an undercurrent of emotions.
“Hi, Colton.” I reply, my tone matching his.
He chuckles softly at my response before silence fills the phone line. He clears his throat. “I was just calling to let you know a car will pick you up at the house on Sunday at nine-thirty.” His voice so full of warmth moments before is now disembodied and official sounding.
“Oh. Okay.” I sag in my chair, disappointment flowing through me at the realization that he’s not calling for me but rather to reiterate the email that one of his staff members had already sent two days ago. I can hear him breathing on the line and can hear voices in the distance.
“You still have a total of ten right? Seven boys and three counselors?”
“Yes.” My tone is clipped, business-like. My only form of protection against him. “They are extremely excited about it.”
“Cool.”
Silence stretches through the line again. I need to think of something to say so that he doesn’t hang up, for despite our lack of conversation, knowing he is on the other end of the line is better than him not being there at all. I know my line of thinking screams “desperate,” but I don’t care. My brain scrambles to form a sentence, and right when I say his name, Colton says my name. We laugh at each other.
“Sorry, you go first, Colton.” I try to rid my voice of the nerves that creep their way into my tone.
“How are you, Rylee?”
Miserable. Missing you. I infuse happiness into my next words, glad he’s not in front of me to read through my lie. “Good. Fine. Just busy. You know.”
