The Opposite of You (Opposites Attract Series Book 1)

by Rachel Higginson

  My instinctual reaction was to apologize. To him. For leaving him. See? This was why I couldn’t trust myself in a new relationship. I didn’t know how to stand up for myself. I didn’t know how to be anything but a doormat.

  And if it hadn’t been for the past couple of months, I probably would have. But Killian had been good for something. He’d taught me how to fight. He’d taught me how to stand up for myself.

  He hadn’t meant to teach me this particular lesson, but he’d done it without demeaning me, without stripping me of dignity and self-worth.

  If anything, Killian had helped me restore some of my confidence; he’d helped me find myself again.

  And it was for that reason alone, I held Derrek’s apologetic gaze and whispered as bravely as I could, “Do you really not know why I left you?”

  A line of customers formed while he stood in front of me, wielding his sick magic. A few people had wandered out of Greenlight, the nearest bar. They laughed and chatted and didn’t notice that I was crumbling to pieces right in front of them.

  I was immediately embarrassed, ashamed, afraid they could look at the two of us and know exactly how I gave him permission to abuse me. It was crazy and they kept their distance, but I just wanted Derrek gone. I never wanted to see him again, let alone have this conversation publically.

  His eyes flashed with hurt like I’d wounded him. “I really don’t know, Vera. You were it for me. You were everything. And then you just disappeared. How can I move on when I don’t even know what happened?”

  “I can’t do this right now,” I told him. “I’m working.” To the crowd, I said, “I’m sorry. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  Two people at the back of the line wandered off, not interested in waiting around while I sorted out my relationship drama. Another guy threw his hands in the air, frustrated with the wait.

  “Derrek, you have to go. I have a restaurant to run.”

  “That’s another thing. This isn’t a restaurant. This is a trailer. You belong in a kitchen. You belong in one of the best kitchens. You’re too damn talented for food like this.”

  I ignored his words, letting them bounce off me with little impact. At least for now. Later, when I was safely tucked in my bed with all the doors locked, I could fully absorb them. “Derrek, you need to leave. I mean it.”

  “You don’t need this place, Vera. You probably haven’t heard. Telltale Heart launched. It’s getting great reviews. There has been some national buzz about it. About me. It’s everything we wanted. You belong in Charlotte with me. By my side.”

  Fire seared through me, sparked by the original argument. I was good enough for a girlfriend, but not an employee. Not that I even wanted to work for him. But it was the principle. “By your side, but not in your kitchen?”

  “What do you mean by that? Vera, God, I need you. Don’t you hear what I’m saying? I need you with me. In my life, however I can have you. If that’s in the kitchen, then fine. But just come home.”

  His words were like daggers in my gut. Or worse, letter openers- sharp enough to penetrate, but dull enough to hurt like hell. I threw all the steel I’d acquired over the last year into my tone and remained firm. “Derrek, I have to work. I need you to leave.”

  “When can I see you again?”

  “You can’t.”

  “I still have all your stuff. I need to give it back to you. We can meet tomorrow to discuss the details.”

  “Leave. Now.”

  “Not until you agree to meet me, to talk this out. It’s a misunderstanding, Vera. You have to know I will do whatever it takes to get you back.”

  “Vera, are you okay?”

  Oh, thank God. I nearly sank to my knees at the sound of Wyatt’s voice. “Yes.” Now that someone familiar was here, the grit oozed out of me, leaving me trembling and teary-eyed. “I need help, Wyatt. Can you step inside for a second? Vann had a date.”

  Wyatt glanced back at Lilou. For a second I was afraid he was going to tell me no. “Can you call Killian? Or text him. Tell him what’s going on and that I’m going to help you for the rest of the night. I left my cell in the kitchen.”

  I nodded, afraid that if I spoke, I would crack.

  Derrek’s eyes narrowed on Wyatt and then me while I unlocked the door with shaky fingers and let Wyatt in. “Thank you,” I whispered when he stepped inside. As soon as he closed it, I reached past him to lock it.

  “That guy is bothering you?” he asked in a low voice.

  “Yes. He won’t leave.”

  “You text Killian. I’ll deal with him.”

  Sending a quick message to Killian that explained I needed Wyatt’s help for a few minutes, I whispered a silent prayer of thanks that he’d intervened when he had. Derrek wouldn’t have listened to me. He would have stuck around until I gave in. Or called the cops.

  I hovered in the corner of the brightly lit truck, wishing I could hide. Wyatt stepped up to the window, blocking Derrek from my sight. He was every inch of intimidating, huge male. Derrek might not have been intimidated, but he was forced to step back when Wyatt shoved the upper half of his body through the order window.

  “Sir, you’re going to have to leave. This window is for paying customers only.”

  “I have been trying to order something,” Derrek insisted. “I just needed to talk to Vera first. So, if you’d move out of the way—”

  “Nope. Not an option. She has the right to refuse service to anyone, and unfortunately, she doesn’t like your face. You’re going to have to leave, or I’m going to call the cops and have you escorted from the premises.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “I can and I will.”

  Derrek’s voice turned to stone. “Do you know who I am? Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” He must have noticed Wyatt’s chef’s coat because he changed his tone from arrogant accolades to vicious threats. “You’re finished in this industry. Done. From now on you’ll be lucky to get a job bussing tables.”

  “Is there a problem?” I couldn’t see him, but I heard him. Killian.

  “This guy won’t leave,” Wyatt explained.

  Now I wanted to throw myself on the ground and curl into a ball. I didn’t need Killian involved. Or witnessing my humiliation. Wasn’t he needed in his own damn kitchen?

  “This guy is Derrek Hanover,” Killian growled. “What are you doing here, Derrek? Why are you harassing a food truck three hours from your kitchen?”

  “You’d be wise to stay out of my business, Quinn,” Derrek warned.

  Oh, God, they knew each other. Could this night get any worse?

  “Not going to happen,” Killian countered. “So, unless you want the cops called and this headline splashed all over every blog on the internet, I suggest you leave now.”

  “You wouldn’t—”

  “Have you forgotten who I work for? One tweet from Ezra and your shit is viral. Do you really want to push me?”

  A heavy silence followed Killian’s threat. Eventually, Derrek gave into the threat of public humiliation. At least for tonight. “I’ll talk to you later, Vera,” Derrek shouted at me. “This isn’t over.”

  I couldn’t see him, but he must have left, because Wyatt eventually stepped back. He stood in the middle of my galley, arms crossed over his chest like the bouncers that stood outside of Greenlight and Verve.

  “Thank you,” I told him. My voice had yet to recover, but a tiny bit of the panic had receded.

  Killian’s face appeared in the window. “How quickly can you close up?”

  It took me several moments before I could answer him. I wanted to leave everything and lock the doors tonight. TBD if I would ever return. But I couldn’t do that. Food was everywhere. I had fryers to turn off and messes to clean up.

  “An hour. I can come back for most of it in the morning.”

  Killian’s glare swung to his sous chef. “Wyatt, help her shut it down.” To me he said, “I’ll be back in thirty minutes to take you home.”


  My abrupt hysteria propelled me forward a step. “You don’t have to do that—”

  “Vera, whatever that shit was with Hanover, was not cool. I’m taking you home. End of discussion.”

  “What about your kitchen?”

  “Fuck the kitchen.” He rubbed a hand over his face, trying to calm down. “Besides, why do I hire the best sous chefs in the city if I can’t count on them to handle one goddamn night for me? Clean up. I’ll be back.”

  He didn’t wait for my reply. Which was fine since I didn’t have one to give him.

  I looked to Wyatt with wide eyes, desperate for him to save me.

  Instead of sympathy, he grinned like the cat that ate the canary. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”

  I glared at him. “Well, you’re not helping.” But I was afraid he was right.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Killian came back a half hour later just like he promised. He stalked across the street like an angry lion about to pounce on some poor, unsuspecting gazelle.

  And I was the gazelle.

  “What’s Killian like to work with?” I asked Wyatt while Killian waited on cars to move out of his way.

  Wyatt stood at my stove, scrubbing it until it looked better than when it had been brand new. He didn’t cut corners or tackle the easy jobs. He went straight for the cooktop. That said something about the standard of work he was used to.

  He kept scrubbing when he answered my question. “He’s an absolute dictator. He requires nothing less than utter perfection all the time. He’s not afraid to get in your face and yell. And he refuses to send anything out that isn’t up to his insane standards.”

  I glared at his back. “You love working for him.”

  He shot me a playful smile over his shoulder. “He’s the best, Vera. Yeah, he knows it, which makes him an asshole. But he can also back it up. I might plot his death in my head sometimes, but what I’ve learned in his kitchen is invaluable. I couldn’t get that experience working for anyone else.”

  “There are other great chefs.”

  He tilted his head back and forth, deliberating. “Fine, I don’t want this experience from anybody else. He’s the kind of chef I want to grow into. His style, his food, his command of the kitchen. I think it would be hard to find anyone that can rival him.”

  “God, just marry him already and get it over with.”

  He laughed at my lame joke and turned back to the stove. “Not that you wouldn’t be fun to work with too, V. But I doubt you’d whip everyone into shape quite like Quinn. I swear there are handprints on my ass when I leave there every night.”

  “First of all, you’re ridiculous. Second of all, I don’t have room in my itty bitty kitchen to do any whipping.” He grunted a laugh. I’d lost all will to take care of my own stuff. It was so much easier to have Wyatt do it for me. “I didn’t mean to sound jealous by the way. I was so not comparing myself to Killian. I mean, there’s not even a comparison there. He’s, you know, him. And I’m just me.”

  He didn’t look up. “Whatever you say, Vera.”

  Killian approached the truck, so I stopped talking. I needed to open the door for him, but I couldn’t make myself move.

  Nerves skittered through me. My belly flipped, and my feet refused to move.

  He scared me. Granted, it wasn’t in the same way that Derrek did, not even close. But I still couldn’t let myself trust him. To trust him meant I had to be vulnerable, meant allowing him space in my life, giving him the ability to hurt me.

  I knew, I just knew, that if I gave Killian that power, he wouldn’t take a little bit. He would take as much as he could. He would pull and pull and pull and demand everything I had.

  And then when he hurt me? It wouldn’t be a small thing. It would be complete and total destruction.

  His knuckles rapped against the door, punctuating the frantic beat of my heart with a harsh tap tap tap. When I didn’t move, Wyatt did. He flicked open the deadbolt and stepped back to make room for Killian.

  The tiny kitchen felt even smaller with the two of them taking up so much space. Killian looked around like he’d never been here before, absorbing every detail with his sharp gaze.

  “What do you have left to do?” he asked.

  I spun around and grabbed the last of the food that needed to be taken to the commissary. It was a pain to haul the food back and forth every single day, but at least I could park the truck here without worrying about it. Vann was awesome for that.

  “I just have these,” I pointed at the crates of food that needed to be carried to my car.

  “This seems unnecessary,” Killian sighed. “Why don’t you just store everything at Lilou?”

  I squinted at him, waiting for him to get all the conflicts of interest involved in that one question. When he didn’t figure it out on his own, I gave him my reasons. “Because that’s dumb.”

  He shook his head and grabbed a crate. “Where are you renting space from then?”

  “The commissary.”

  He turned to Wyatt, not giving my answer a response. “Thanks for helping, man. I owe you.”

  There was a weird beat of silence where Wyatt and I simultaneously wondered why Killian owed him. Wasn’t it me Wyatt did the favor for?

  “It’s no problem, Chef,” Wyatt shrugged. “I’ll just head back. Who’s in charge now?”

  “Kaya, but take over when you get there.”

  “She’s going to be pissed.”

  “Who cares,” Killian shrugged. “I told her you’d be back. Don’t let her give you any shit and make sure she stays on track. I’m not dealing with her temper tantrums, yeah?”

  “Got it.” Wyatt swallowed thickly which made me think he was more nervous about standing up to Kaya than he wanted Killian to believe.

  “And, Wyatt?”

  “Yes, chef?”

  “Don’t fuck anything up.”

  Wyatt gulped for the second time. “Yes, chef.”

  Killian jerked his head toward the door, and Wyatt dropped the rag on the counter and backed away. “See you around, Vera.”

  “Thanks again,” I told him quickly. “I really appreciate you showing up when you did.”

  His eyes flashed with concern and his mouth pressed into a frown. He hadn’t asked any questions about Derrek, and I was grateful for that. But looking at him now I could tell he was worried about me. I just didn’t have anything to tell him.

  I was worried about me too.

  He lifted a hand in a lazy wave and disappeared out the door.

  I turned away from Killian and focused on the closing tasks. “I just need to shut everything down, then I’m ready to go.”

  He didn’t say anything, so I went about double checking everything was off, closing the windows and locking everything up. It was a twenty-minute routine that got tedious, but Killian didn’t complain.

  When I was finished, he picked up two crates of food, one on top of the other, and headed down the steps. I grabbed the remaining crate and followed him.

  He hovered over me while I set mine down again to lock the outside door. “Thanks for staying with me,” I told him in a voice just barely above a whisper.

  “Derrek Hanover is your ex-boyfriend? The one that drove you to Europe?”

  Well, he didn’t waste any time.

  I knew he would have questions. What was worse, I knew he would want answers. My days of dodging the whole truth and nothing but the truth were over.

  But, damn, I wasn’t ready for this.

  I also wasn’t ready to see Derrek again, but apparently I didn’t get to pick and choose my problems.

  “Derrek Hanover is my ex-boyfriend,” I confirmed. I swooped down and picked up my crate. It was easier to talk about this if I didn’t have to look at Killian or acknowledge his existence altogether. I led him into the alley and toward my car.

  “Europe?” Killian pressed, not giving me any wiggle room.

  “He didn’t drive me there. I went. Willingly.”
Which made it seem like I was the flighty one. I had no idea why I was still covering for Derrek. Four months ago, when I’d gotten back, I’d convinced myself I could talk about my relationship with him. I’d promised that I wouldn’t bury everything. But the words were so difficult to spit out.

  My shame was too great to admit. Especially to someone like Killian who would never let anyone intimidate or abuse him. And sure, he was a man, so the chances of that happening were minuscule. But it was more than that. It was his personality. He didn’t put up with shit from anybody.

  We reached my Taurus after a minute of tense silence. After enough nights of loading and unloading, I had the keys and trunk situation down to a science. Still balancing my crate packed with food, I unlocked the trunk and unloaded mine and then one of Killian’s.

  “The other one is going to have to go in the back seat.”

  He followed me to the side and slid it in. He stayed quiet the entire time.

  His silence became a tangible thing in the air, heavy, dangerous and confusing. It was like he was mad at me for being involved with Derrek. And okay, I was mad at me too, but I didn’t get it coming from him.

  I closed the door and stepped back from him, not sure if I was ready to get into the enclosed space of my car just yet. “Do you know Derrek?”

  “Do I know Derrek Hanover?” he repeated, only where my tone had been openly curious, his had an edge. “Yeah, I know Derrek Hanover.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest and shuffled my feet, kicking at a small rock. The night air had cooled down, and a refreshing breeze danced in the air. The clear sky allowed the half-moon to glow as brightly as it could, but it was still completely dark. A streetlight on the corner provided only a little light, casting Killian in shadow and hiding his features from me.

  There wasn’t an easy response to his biting remarks. I knew Derrek better than anyone. Killian was right not to like him. But this wasn’t one of those situations where I cared about the whys of it. I wasn’t interested in gossiping about my ex.

  I just wanted to forget about him completely.