Damaged: The Dillon Sisters

by Layla Frost

  “Good afternoon, Briar.”

  I jumped at the voice close behind me. Proving I really was out of sorts, I hadn’t heard Derrick’s approach.

  Who am I?

  Derrick didn’t apologize for startling me, but pity was clear in his sad eyes. “How’re you today?”

  “Good,” I lied, a hint of panic in my voice and manic in my smile.

  “Great. Heading to group?” he asked, completely unaware he was interrupting something monumental.

  It was as if bodyguard guy was so out of my league, it hadn’t occurred to him we’d be talking.

  And he wasn’t wrong. We shouldn’t be talking.

  That, along with the mention of group, was the slap in the face reminder I needed. I couldn’t date that hot guy. Or anyone, really. I came with an airport’s worth of baggage, including things I couldn’t hide and had zero interest explaining.

  Especially since any explanation made it clear I was all sorts of fucked up.

  Every fiber of my body screamed at me to turn and run. Since that would earn me a boatload of bullshit from Derrick, I acknowledged his question with a quick nod. But I did completely ignore the hot guy as I hurried away from him without another glance.

  When I got to the therapy room, I gave a small exhale. Everyone was in attendance, and more people meant less focus on me. An even bigger exhale wheezed out, making my head swim with relief, when I saw no one was paying attention to me. There were no whispers or sidelong glances my way.

  It was all in my head.

  I can make it through the next hour and go home to…

  I can go home.

  Derrick followed me in and kicked things off. The usual story topping started from the get-go with the occasional legit issue in between.

  I preferred to remain silent, but my paranoia demanded I talk to keep people off my case. The best defense was a good offense, right? Or was it the other way around?

  Either way, I waited for a lull halfway through before asking, “Does anyone have a favorite store for home items? I want to make my apartment my own, but I’m not finding things I like.”

  Mostly because I haven’t looked.

  A couple people offered the typical suggestions of thrift stores and Target. Since I was one of the few who didn’t live at home or with a roommate, some asked how it was living on my own.

  “I love it. It’s nice to have my own space,” I said, which wasn’t a lie.

  For once.

  “Do you have pictures?” Derrick asked.

  “Oh, good idea.” Jenna held out her hand. “I can give you better suggestions if I can see.”

  The idea of letting them into my space, even via picture, made me so uncomfortable, I thought I might be sick. I never had guests—not even my own sister.

  If you won’t share pictures, they’ll ask why. And they’ll dig and dig until they find out everything.

  Including the little secret skeletons in your closet.

  My hands shook as I pulled my cell from my purse and unlocked it to bring up the pictures I’d sent Aria. Thankfully, they were taken before I’d moved my few pieces of furniture in, so it wasn’t as invasive as it could’ve been. I turned it so everyone could see.

  “What a cute place,” Jenna said, grabbing the phone from my hand and pinching the screen to zoom in and out. “I love the kitchen island. You could put so many different things there to spruce it up. Like, holiday decorations or a pretty fruit bowl.”

  “Or flowers,” Derrick said, remembering what I’d shared the week before.

  Since those dead flowers were still on my floor—along with the shards of glass I couldn’t find the energy or desire to clean up—that ruled them out. The lobby ones had been cleared away by maintenance or someone who was sick of looking at them, so they were out, too.

  Maybe I’ll stop and get my own flowers. Purposeful ones, not accidental reminders that I’m alone.

  Or I can get a succulent. Those are hard to kill, I think.

  I showed them the few other pictures, though there wasn’t much to see.

  “Pictures in that hallway will make it look bigger,” Jared surprisingly tossed in.

  Meghan nodded. “Same with the dining room area.”

  “I love your windows. So much natural light,” Jenna said before inevitably—and thankfully—turning the discussion to her. To be fair, she’d lasted two minutes. It was a new record for her. “I really wish I had my own apartment to design the way I wanted.”

  “Why don’t you?” I asked, coming across like a caring therapy buddy and not someone desperate to steer the attention away from themselves.

  She sighed dramatically, ensuring she had everyone’s attention before launching in. “I keep telling Dr. Davis I’m ready, but he doesn’t agree.”

  “Why do you think that is?” Derrick prompted, trying to lead the conversation into something deeper. If he got her to admit her faults—that her narcissism led to destructive, attention seeking behavior when left unchecked—he’d probably float out of the room on cloud nine with the validation he wasn’t wasting his life.

  If that’s what he was hoping for, he wasn’t going to get it. According to Jenna, it was everyone else’s fault. Her loving family. Her friends. Her boss, coworkers, and Dr. Davis himself. If she could find the seven degrees of separation, I was sure she’d blame Kevin Bacon, too.

  Derrick hid his dejection when every attempt he made at nudging her toward accountability was swatted away with practiced ease.

  The rest of the session continued along the same lines until it was finally time to get out of there. I was up and out of my seat, not bothering with my usual inconspicuousness as I hauled ass to the stairwell. Like a monster was on my tail, I jogged down the steps and out into the lobby before slowing down.

  “Hey.” I looked to the side and saw the bodyguard lounging behind the receptionist’s long desk. Slouching, his long legs were spread as he swiveled the chair back and forth. “Where’s the fire?”

  Under my skin.

  Keeping that thought to myself, I blurted the next thing that popped into my head. “Why’re you here?”

  “Work.” His deep voice was teasing when he added, “Don’t worry, I’m not a total stalker.”

  Oh.

  Right.

  Even though I could’ve sworn my anticlimactic climax the week before was the final nail in my fanciful coffin, I was wrong. The crazy part of me—which was the majority of me—had hoped he’d been there waiting for me.

  Wow, suuuuuuper stellar day for my ego.

  “But,” he pushed his seat back, “I did pick this chair to make sure I saw you before you left.”

  Well.

  Okay then.

  That softens the blow.

  Now, to leave on that high note.

  “Well, you saw me.” Without another word, I gave him my back and headed for the exit.

  “Briar, wait!”

  I tried to tell my body to resist his rough voice, but it didn’t listen. My head turned so I could watch him come from behind the desk, his long legs easily eating up the small distance I’d managed to put between us.

  “Is there something about my name that makes people want to scream it?” I snapped before I could stop myself.

  Or at least phrase it better.

  My already burning cheeks felt like fire when the hot guy’s smile turned into a smirk.

  “That’s not what I meant,” I huffed.

  He held his hands up. “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Your smile did.”

  “Did my smile also tell you to have dinner with me tomorrow?”

  Yes.

  “No.”

  My blunt rejection did nothing to lessen that stupidly charming smile. “No it didn’t or no you won’t?”

  I knew his shout had garnered attention. I felt eyes on us.

  But it didn’t freak me out. It soothed the residual bruising my ego took earlier, and I was proud people saw us.

  Fuck yo
u, Derrick. I’m not a pariah or an outcast. I’m not some dirty secret to be hidden away. Someone out of my league does want to talk to me and doesn’t care who sees it.

  But he wasn’t just talking to me. He was asking me out.

  Again.

  Too bad I couldn’t say yes.

  “Both,” I answered as I began walking toward the door again.

  The bodyguard followed. Not just through the lobby, but out to the sidewalk.

  Like he was chasing me.

  Like I was worth the chase.

  More people watched us. Well, they were mostly looking at him since it’d be hard not to stare. The man wore a gray long sleeve shirt and black slacks with the same confidence and appeal Bond wore tuxedos. But no matter how many people checked him out, all of his focus stayed on me.

  It was an unfamiliar but not unpleasant experience.

  I wanted more of it.

  “Your smile says yes,” he teased.

  I fought to flatten my lips into a scowl, but I knew it wasn’t working. “How do you know my smile doesn’t say murder and destruction?”

  “And think about how much easier that’d be for you to accomplish if we had a predetermined place to meet.”

  No cringing? No concern? Not even a lecture about my black humor?

  He can take a joke without reading into it. That’s sexier than him being tall and hot, with a body out of a Marvel movie and a jaw that should be on the contraband list.

  Okay, it’s equally as sexy.

  A giddy feeling I hadn’t experienced in years—not since the before time—bubbled in my chest. It wasn’t much, just a hint of lightness, but it was enough.

  It was like he could read my weakening resolve. “If it helps, don’t think of it as a date. Think of it as a destruction planning session with a new friend.”

  “Maybe,” I murmured.

  He sweetened the deal that was already a fluffy mound of cotton candy. “You can even pick the restaurant and meet me there.”

  I was gonna say no. I should’ve said no. But when I opened my mouth, I blurted, “Mexican.”

  “Done,” he shot back instantly. The burn under my skin at the thought of plans flared, but before it could turn into a full inferno, he grinned. It was so genuine and easy, it fed the giddiness inside me. “Tomorrow?”

  “I work tomorrow.”

  “Saturday night then. Seven?”

  What am I doing?

  I might as well get real wild and stop at the store for that plant.

  I’ll be the girl with a hot date and a succulent, sucka. Look at me, pretending I have my shit together.

  I glanced to the side to see my bus coming. Before I could chicken out, I told him, “Loco Diablo.”

  “It’s a… planning session.”

  The bus stopped in front of me, and I gave him a small wave before stepping on.

  I was up the steps when he called, “See you Saturday, Briar.”

  “Bye—”

  The rest of my sentence was cut off by the closing door. It didn’t matter, I couldn’t have finished it anyway.

  Because I didn’t know his name.

  Chapter Ten

  Curiosity

  Briar

  For lonely puppies

  UHHHH…

  Looking down at my cell, I tried to figure out how to phrase my Google search. I typed, deleted, and retyped until I decided on the bluntest—and stupidest—info I knew.

  Hot bodyguard to tech guy Redmond, WA

  Unsurprisingly, nothing of use showed up other than weird niche dating sites and even weirder niche porn. I quickly exited out of the browser since perusing porn while on break in the employee room was likely frowned upon.

  Reopening the porn-free browser, I tried Google again.

  Tech companies Redmond, WA

  That search garnered a lot of results, but nothing I could use. I had no clue what I was looking for unless the website plastered his face all over every inch of their home page.

  Which none of them did.

  Bastards.

  I switched to the images tab to see if there were any pictures of the tech guy so I could find out who his bodyguard was, but there weren’t.

  Damn.

  Surprisingly, I wasn’t after his name so I could contact him to cancel. I just wanted to know it. Since no one had thoughtfully said it in front of him like they had mine, Google it was. I’d managed to resist the urge the night before, but I couldn’t wait. I was weak. My curiosity was driving me nuts

  Hitting a dead end, I had no choice but to be patient—something I was not good at—I checked the time to see I still had fifteen minutes left on break. Since there was nothing else to do, I stood and pocketed my phone before heading to the kennels.

  Moving some cages into the grooming room, I was about to get to work when the door opened, setting off a fresh round of barks.

  “How did I know I’d find you in here?” Sue asked.

  I’m antisocial and predictable?

  “Lucky guess,” I said.

  I opened a cage, and a scruffy ball of brown fluff barreled out at me, desperate for attention. Petting its fur, I tried to work out some of the tangles with my fingers.

  The new group of filthy, terrified pups had been rescued from a puppy mill. I wanted to make sure they’d be ready in time for the bachelor auction. Not just because they’d bring in some much-needed funds—though that was true—but also because the shelter wasn’t a good place for them. It was a hell of a lot better than where they’d been, but they deserved big homes with room to roam—something they hadn’t had in the mill’s cramped, tiny cages. They’d lived through so much bad in their short lives.

  I could relate.

  “How’re things coming for the auction?” I asked.

  Sue shot me a frazzled look before rolling her eyes. “You know how it is. Everything gets messed up at the last minute. And since there’s still a week left, there’s a lot of last minutes left.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be great.” I shifted to stand.

  Like she could read my mind, she grabbed one of the grooming kits and handed it to me.

  Unzipping it, I pulled out a special brush and got to work on the chocolate doodle’s more intense tangles as Sue paced and ranted about caterers, venues, donations, and everything else that went into a charity event.

  For the shelter’s sake, I hoped the auction brought in crazy money because it would do a lot of good. But for Sue’s sake, I hoped it brought in super extra crazy money so all that hassle was worth it.

  “You know what would help?” Sue asked, her voice a little too light and nonchalant.

  Already knowing where she was going with it, I shook my head. “Not happening.”

  “You don’t have to be out in the crowd. You can stay in the back, making sure the dogs are set. You know you’re the best at calming them.”

  I was.

  Because only someone whose head was filled with chaos knew all the secrets to calm.

  Too bad they rarely worked on me.

  Especially right then when I felt like I was letting down Sue and the dogs.

  Likely reading a hint of my panic—though definitely not knowing the depths of it—Sue held her hands up in the surrender position and smiled. “Can you blame me for trying?”

  Yes.

  But I mostly blame myself.

  She glanced at the wall behind me. “Weren’t you supposed to be on break?”

  “Oops.”

  “I’ll clock you in and adjust your time.” She paused at the door before looking over her shoulder with a mischievous smile. “By the way, expect a delivery tomorrow afternoon.”

  Since it was unlikely she was firing me via singing telegram or Edible Arrangement, the verbal carrot she’d dangled didn’t spike my anxiety. It just added to the list of things that were piquing my curiosity.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “Just a little something.”

  Maybe instead of an Edible Arrangem
ent spelling out You’re Fired, it’s one that says Thanks.

  Oh, if it’s made of delicious chocolate covered strawberries, I hope they spell out Thank you so very much for all you do, Briar Dillon.

  “You’re evil,” I said.

  “I know,” Sue shot back before leaving me alone with the pups—my favorite place to be.

  I worked at their fur, hoping at least some of it could be saved. The matted ones who needed to be shaved would still bring in bids, but the fluffy ones would draw more attention, upping their chances of finding a home.

  Maybe Aria will adopt one of these cuties. Between the center and starting her own practice, I’m sure she has loads of time to train and bond with a dog.

  My thoughts were supposed to be snarky, but the idea held merit. If anyone could handle all that plus the added work of a new pet, it was Aria.

  Bonus, she would score a date with a firefighter.

  My mind went to the bodyguard with his overgrown hair and stubble, honey-colored eyes, and easy grin.

  Maybe after the firefighter auction, we could do a bodyguard calendar. It’d bring in a fortune.

  Everyone knows the only thing more irresistible than a cute dog is a hot guy with a cute dog.

  Him

  THE PROBLEM WITH seeing people’s deepest, darkest secrets every single fucking day was it made it impossible to forget. Impossible to pretend.

  Each new person I met, I wondered what they were hiding. What sickness stewed in their brains. What mask they wore.

  Because everyone had one.

  Everyone but her.

  She may have lied with her words, but never with her eyes. There was a bleak honesty to her pain she couldn’t hide. She wore her scars.

  Literally and figuratively.

  Maybe one day she would tell me everything. Share her pain and show me her scars.

  Or maybe I would help her in a different way.

  Carefully removing the man’s wallet from his discarded coat, I took a business card.

  It wasn’t as if he needed it anymore.

  Chapter Eleven

  Monsters

  Briar

  For a good run

  SALSA. SALSA. SALSA.

  Do it for the salsa.

  My mantra wasn’t my usual one, but it may have been more effective. It’d fueled me through the entire hoopla of dragging my ass off the couch and getting ready. Repeating it, I gave myself one last glance in the mirror. My hair wasn’t sticking up or knotted. I didn’t have any food stuck in my teeth. I’d even dressed up.