Rogue Angel (The Rourkes, Book 10)

by Kylie Gilmore

A few minutes later, I let him into my apartment. He takes one look at me and rushes forward, pulling me into his arms. “Bec, what’s wrong? You’re still in your pajamas and you look like you’ve been crying.” I’m wearing an oversized T-shirt and my gray cotton jogging pants. I’ve basically been on a crying jag for the past twenty-four hours.

  I lean against him for a long moment, my frazzled nerves temporarily soothed. Then I remember myself and pull away. “We need to talk.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah.” I go to my sofa, tucking a leg under me.

  He joins me.

  I smooth my messy hair out of my face. “I didn’t leave the apartment today. In fact, I didn’t leave the sofa.”

  “Okay,” he says slowly. “Why not?”

  I grip my hands tightly together and stare at them. “I was too ashamed.”

  He takes my hand in his and cups my cheek with his other hand, turning me to face him. “Bec, I can’t imagine you did anything that bad. You’re one of the best people I know.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m not.”

  “What happened?”

  I tell him the whole horrible story in between bursts of tears. I’m not even sure I’m making sense. Talking about what happened in that meeting brings fresh pain.

  “Shit.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Bec, I never wanted this on you. I accept full responsibility for pushing to keep seeing each other. I just couldn’t not be with you. I love you, you know that.”

  I bite my trembling lip, nodding and desperately holding back tears.

  He scoots closer, rubbing my back. “I’m so sorry. Let me talk to the dean. I’ll fix it.”

  “No!”

  “Bec.”

  “No, it’s too late and that’ll just make it worse.” I grab a tissue from the end table and wipe my eyes before blowing my nose and crumpling the tissue in my fist.

  “I have to do something. It’s my fault.”

  I glance at his pained expression. “No. It’s not all on you. I made my own choices, even as conflicted as I was. With good reason, right?” I laugh mirthlessly. “I don’t know what to do now—about you, about work, about anything.”

  “Whoa, what do you mean you don’t know what to do about me? You said you didn’t blame me.”

  I sit there for a long moment, lost in the turmoil of all my careful plans blowing up in my face. I’m overheated, agitated, my mind careening from regret to shame, all of it directed at my poor choice. I knew better. I should’ve listened to my gut.

  I take a deep breath. “I think we should stop seeing each other.”

  His jaw clenches. “Pushing me away isn’t going to bring your job back.”

  “I don’t have a job because of us,” I say quietly.

  “No, it’s because someone has their own issue and they made it yours.”

  I throw my hands up. “It’s a legitimate complaint, Connor. I created a hostile environment for my students.”

  He scoffs. “Ridiculous.”

  “It’s not ridiculous. If it was, this whole thing wouldn’t have blown up in my face.”

  “Bec, listen, I’ll talk to the dean and explain everything.”

  I leap off the sofa. “There’s nothing to explain! There’s just the facts, and they’re all lined up against me.” I cross my arms, hugging myself. “Please go. I need to figure some things out.”

  He stands. “We can figure things out together.”

  I look toward the door. “I need some space. Can you please respect that?”

  I hear his sharp exhale and then he leaves, giving me the space I asked for. I close my eyes and lift my head to the ceiling, trying to hold the tears back. A losing battle.

  Finally, I decide to change and go for a run in Prospect Park, hoping it’ll clear my head.

  The run just wears me out even more. Now I’m physically and emotionally spent. My phone rings on my cooldown walk. I check the screen. Simone. I called her earlier but got her voicemail. She was probably in a recording session, working on her next album.

  “Becca, I just got your message. Honey, are you okay?”

  I take a seat on a nearby bench. “No. It’s horrible. My parents would be so ashamed. I’m so ashamed.”

  “Just because you lost your job?”

  “No, it was more than that.” My voice cracks, and I take a deep breath before spilling my guts with all the damning details.

  “That’s bullshit,” she says.

  “No, it’s not. My students had a legitimate complaint. Maybe I was unintentionally playing favorites. I just really thought his case study was a good learning experience.”

  “They can’t fire you for this,” she says hotly.

  “I wasn’t fired. They just didn’t ask me back. The worst part is, there was a formal complaint against me that they have to disclose to future employers, so I’m basically finished in academia.”

  “Oh, Bec. I’m so sorry. I know you really wanted this new career to work out for you.”

  I stare at the ground. “What’s the point of planning when it just blows up in my face? I’m an idiot for thinking I could have it both ways, keep my job and my—” I choke. “I don’t think it’s going to work out with Con.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I sniffle. “Thanks.”

  “I know everything is shit right now, but I could still really use you on my team. Come out to LA. We’ll talk more and I’ll introduce you around. We’ll see how you feel after that. Wouldn’t you like a little getaway?”

  “Yeah, I would actually.” I did say I’d consider being her business manager after I finished my semester. Now I’m really finished. I close my eyes and let out a long breath.

  “Okay. I know you have class on Saturday. How’s Sunday? I’ll have my assistant arrange everything. We’ll have you back in time for your next class. Can you get time off your other job?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Awesome. I’m psyched. You’ll love it out here, sunshine all the time.”

  I try to put some enthusiasm in my voice, though I feel numb. “Okay. Looking forward to seeing you.”

  17

  Connor

  Bec is off her game in class today. I gave her some space, hoping she’d get her bearings, and it’s been brutal wondering if this is the end of us. I’ve never seen her like this before. She keeps stopping and starting the lecture, her gaze anxiously studying the women in class. She really wants to talk to whoever complained about her, and apologize. I don’t think she did anything wrong, and I’m not just saying that because I’m the one she’s seeing. Bec has been nothing but professional in class. If she occasionally looks at me with real affection in her eyes, that’s just normal. She’s not a robot. You can’t just turn off your feelings. But there’s been nothing overt. I never touch her, flirt with her, or even speak directly to her unless called upon. I’ve been very careful, as I promised her from the beginning.

  Class limps along, and it’s painful to watch. It was Becca’s enthusiasm that kept things going, and she’s lost that.

  Once class lets out, I leave with the others and wait for her outside the building. We need to talk. She appears a few moments later, pulling the hood up of her long white down coat, huddled against the cold.

  I step into her path. “Hey, Bec.”

  She jumps. “Con, we can’t be seen together.”

  “It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”

  She blinks rapidly, her eyes tearing. “I just want to get home. I need to do laundry and pack.” She walks at a brisk pace to the subway and I keep up.

  “Why’re you packing? Where’re you going?”

  “LA. I’m going to visit Simone. She might have a job I’m right for, working for her.”

  My gut tightens. “You’re moving to LA for a new job?”

  “I don’t know, Connor. It’s a possibility, and I need to get away. She’s been asking me to be her business manager for a while now, she really needs me, and now that I’m u
nemployed, I need to consider it.”

  “Did you consider us?”

  “What about us?”

  I stop her, putting a hand on her arm. “I’m rooted here with my family business, you know that. So you make these plans without even talking to me about it?”

  She shoves her hood off. “What would you say?”

  “I’d say don’t go.”

  “See? I need to consider what’s best for me. I didn’t do that before, and now my whole life blew up.”

  My chest aches. “You do blame me.”

  She shakes her head. “I know it was both of us, but, Con, I need space to figure things out. It’s too easy for me to forget about what I want when we’re together.”

  She turns from me, walking away maybe forever, and desperation rears its ugly head.

  “So you just run away from your problems and let Simone take care of you?” I bark.

  She turns back. “It’s a real job. And I’ve got nothing to lose.”

  “So I’m nothing to you.”

  She crosses her arms. “I didn’t say that.”

  I close the distance. “It feels like we both lose. Fight for us.”

  “Please.” She backs away, her face crumpling. “Just give me the space I asked for.” She hurries off, and I let her go.

  I stand there, watching her retreating back. I’m losing her. It’s all falling apart before my eyes, and I have no idea how to fix it.

  Becca

  I’m back after a week in LA. I feel calmer now about my life implosion. Nothing like being with your best friend for comfort and support. I still have a lot to figure out, but Simone gave me a killer pep talk, and I’m going to hold my head high and finish this class to the best of my abilities.

  I arrive early to class on Saturday morning and take my place at the lectern. There’s only two classes left. Today I’m going to cover addressing new corporate priorities through restructuring. The last class is when the final paper is due, and each student will present what they wrote about to the class. Basically, today is my last day of instruction, and I’m going to make it the best I possibly can.

  I get my notes out as my students arrive. It still hurts that my performance reviews were so poor, but as Simone says, what other people think of me is not my concern. I’m sure that works better when you’re a celebrity. Deep down, I’m still gutted that my first foray into what I thought was my destiny has been such a spectacular failure. I can’t put all the blame at Connor’s feet. I made my choice. And maybe I was unintentionally distracted by his presence; maybe I did send him longing looks without realizing it. The fact is there were two of us involved in this relationship. After class, I’m going to ask him to come back to my place. We have so much to talk about.

  I start off the lecture strong, telling myself my students are actually looking forward to learning from me. I’m halfway through discussing a company I consulted with previously on their restructuring to address sustainability goals when I realize no one is taking notes. In fact, the class is eerily quiet. Maybe I didn’t leave enough room for participation.

  I take them in with what I hope is an encouraging expression. “Does anyone have an example of new corporate goals and how they were implemented? Bonus if it involved new job titles and new lines of direct reporting.” That’s a little joke because I’m asking them to give me the example I just gave them.

  No one even looks up.

  I take a deep breath. “Okay, so back to Regenerix’s example. A new department of sustainability was created with direct report to the president of the company to make sure all corporate goals were aligned with sustainability goals.” I glance up at the murmur of voices. Mike, sitting right up front, is talking to his neighbor in a low voice. Several people are on their phones.

  I clear my throat. “If I could please have your attention, I know it’s early on a Saturday, but this is the second to last class, and I’m really hoping you’ll come away with some useful information.”

  Nothing. People are tuning me out. Do they hate me as a teacher that much?

  “Mike, please save your private conversation for later,” I say.

  His eyes narrow into slits. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “No need to call me ma’am,” I say lightly. “That sounds like my mother.” I laugh a little. The class stares back at me blankly, a few with dark expressions.

  I soldier on, staring at my notes. “Well, we’re all here for a reason so let’s get back to—”

  “I’d like to say something,” a familiar deep voice calls out.

  My head jerks up. Oh no. Connor is standing looking like he’s about to make a big announcement.

  I shake my head at him.

  He lifts a palm with a small nod of acknowledgment to me but goes on anyway. “I just want to clear the air. There’s been some talk about Rebecca and her involvement with me. I want everyone to know that we were involved before class even started, so there was no kind of abuse of power or anything inappropriate between us. It was—is, simply a relationship between two consenting adults. And I’m auditing this class—no grade for me—so the fact that we’re involved really has no impact on any other student.”

  My mouth gapes in shock; my eyes and cheeks hot. I swallow a few times, speechless.

  He takes his seat. The class is utterly silent.

  I look from face to face, everyone looks uncomfortable. A few women shift in their seats and look down at their laptops. I’m so humiliated. How can I go on?

  “Fifteen-minute break,” I say and bolt from the room.

  I don’t want to see anyone. I can’t chance the ladies’ room. I go upstairs, hoping for privacy in my office, but a custodian is cleaning it. I find an empty meeting room, shut the door behind me, and stare out the window. How could he do this to me? On what planet is addressing the class with a big announcement about our personal life ever appropriate? And to think I was finally ready to move past all this.

  The door opens. “Bec?”

  He followed me. Of course he did. He just does what he wants no matter how it looks to other people. I hear the door shut quietly behind him.

  I turn to face him, waiting for him to get close enough that I can speak softly and only he can hear me. “You crossed the line. Y-you—” My voice shakes with anger and I have to take a calming breath. “You made the issue public, which made it worse. And you didn’t discuss it with me ahead of time!” My voice gets loud at the end there, but I can’t help it.

  He scowls. “You went away and didn’t discuss your plans with me ahead of time either. How’s it feel?”

  I blink a few times, speechless. No apology, no remorse, just throwing that in my face. I can’t believe this is the man I risked my career over. Damn him.

  “Shitty, Con. It feels shitty. And I don’t like a relationship that keeps score. Don’t come back to class. Don’t…just don’t do anything. I can’t see you anymore.”

  His jaw clenches, his eyes narrowing. I pissed him off. Well, join the club.

  I brush by him, and he grabs my arm. “I bought the coffee shop where you work.”

  I scrunch my brow, totally lost. “What?”

  “Yeah. Now I’m your boss and it looks like favoritism to the other employees, so you should quit.”

  I yank my arm from his grip. “I worked there first. Besides, how can it be favoritism if we had a prior relationship?”

  “Because I stepped into a position of authority.”

  I plant my hands on my hips. “I’m not quitting on your say-so.”

  “I could fire you.”

  I drop my hands. Is he serious? Who is this man? I thought I knew him. I thought he was a decent person. “You’d do that?”

  He shakes his head. “I didn’t buy the coffee shop. I wanted you to see how it could’ve been the other way.”

  I see red, fury flooding me. “Oh, so an intellectual exercise designed to scare the crap out of me after you’ve humiliated me. Thanks so much.”

  I walk away,
head held high. I’m going to finish today’s class if it kills me. Connor Rourke will not best me.

  Just as I pull the door open, he says from behind me, “You’re a coward.”

  I whirl. “You’re a dick.”

  I walk away on shaky legs, trying desperately to hold off tears. I will get through this. I don’t need someone like him in my life. I’m moving forward.

  I’m strong, I’m determined, I’m…devastated.

  18

  Connor

  I fucked up. First I was pissed off that she gave up on us and, once that faded, I was just very, very sad. I wanted to keep Becca in my life, and somehow I ruined everything. I crossed the line, said things I shouldn’t have. If there was an instruction manual on how to make a relationship work, I’d be an example of what not to do. It’s been three days and I still have no clue how to make it better. I can’t possibly make things any worse. She won’t talk to me, won’t see me. I just want things to go back to the way they were. Class ends this Saturday, and I can’t bear to think it’s the last time I’m ever going to see her.

  It’s lunch break at work, and I join the crew and my brothers at our makeshift table, unwrapping my usual roast beef, provolone, and potato chip sandwich and stare at it. I have this same sandwich every day to save money. I’m always looking to the future, saving my money for some day, and now when I look to the future, all I see is a dark void without Becca.

  “That sandwich needs some hot sauce,” Jack says, gesturing to the hot sauce in the center of the table. It’s not a prank. At least so far it hasn’t been. Watch today be the day he’s switched it up with something gross or scorching hot.

  “No, thanks,” I say flatly.

  He shakes his head. “I thought you’d be in a better mood since the water tower cleared yesterday. You were so worked up about it before.”

  “Yeah, I’m glad.” I can’t put much enthusiasm into my voice. Everything sucks so bad. It is good news for us though. The tower didn’t get landmark status, but after class discussion on my case study (based on our business), I saw some new ways to approach the problem. We agreed to keep the water tower with a fence around it to prevent kids from climbing on it and a fresh new paint job, erasing the graffiti and restoring it to the way it looked back in the day when it was a marine rope factory. We kept the history without the hazard, which was a win-win.