Sleet Kitten: Book One of the Sleet Series

This has officially been the day from hell. I had a work file that I apparently didn’t save correctly, so I spent most of the day redoing something I’d already done. Then, I was heating up a cup of coffee in the microwave and hit the wrong button, putting way too much time on the timer, scorching the coffee and making my entire house smell like burnt asshole. After that, I stubbed my toe on the edge of the bathtub. And later, I jabbed myself in the eye with my mascara wand. Thanks a lot, cosmic mayhem; what a perfect day to pile on the stress.

I’ve also been avoiding calls from everyone. They’ve all seen the pictures of Jackson and Lacy. I even got a call from Steph, which I also ignored. I don’t want to hear anyone else’s thoughts on this. I need to hear what Jackson has to say. And I’ll be honest, his text about wanting to talk to me sounds a lot like we need to talk. And we all know what that means.

Am I falling for Jackson? Yes. Did I think this thing between us had potential to be real? Yes. Possibly a forever type of thing? Yes, I can admit that now. Am I worried that he doesn’t feel the same way? Am I worried that this talk tonight will ruin everything? God, yes. I hope I’m wrong. I hope he can explain, but I’m working to build up my armor. Just in case.

I haven’t talked to Jackson today. His text said to come over tonight, and the last time he invited me over it was for dinner at seven. He didn’t say anything about dinner, but since we didn’t set a time, I’m just going to stick with the same as last time.

Not wanting to deal with traffic, I opt to take a Lyft to Jackson’s condo. 

I opted to stay casual with jeans, an oversized chunky-knit sweater, and ballet flats. It’s a cute outfit, but mostly I chose it because I feel comfortable in it. 

When the car pulls up in front of his building, I force myself to take a few deep breaths before exiting the car. Except now, walking towards the front doors, I’m wondering what I’ll do if he’s not home. I don’t really want to sit and wait in the lobby, looking like a desperate idiot. Whatever, I’ll figure this out one step at a time.

Once inside, I walk to the security desk. It’s the same guy as last time. Reading his name tag, I say, “Hi, Henry.”

“Good evening, Miss Katelyn.”

“You remember me?” I’m surprised.

“Of course. Mr. Wilder put you on his approved visitor list.”

“Oh, um, that’s nice.”

He smiles. “You can use the elevators on the left.”

“Thank you.”

Hitting the Up button, I wait. I’m taking it as a good sign that I’m still on his approved list. If he wanted me gone, he probably wouldn’t have done that.

When the elevator arrives, I step in. Pressing the button for the top floor, I will my body to relax. I’ll see Jackson in a moment, and he’ll clear all of this up. He’ll hug me in his wonderfully huge man arms. I’ll sniff his neck. And all will be good in the world.

The elevator stops and the doors open. Okay, this will all be okay. Relax.

I pause in front of Jackson’s door and take one more calming breath before I reach out a fist and knock. 

A moment later, I hear the lock turn and the door opens. The smile that I’ve forced onto my face freezes. Standing before me is Lacy. In a thin silk robe.

It’s like in a movie, when time slows down and the hero can watch a fly’s wings flap or the slow blink of their enemy. It’s like that, only awful. 

I can feel it as a piece of that armor I built around myself cracks right down the middle. And instead of a slow blink, I watch Lacy’s gaze glide over me as her lips pull into a smirk. She’s still perfect, just like the last time I saw her. Perfect hair, perfect makeup, perfect body. Her robe is white, nearly see-through, and obscenely short. From the amount of skin on display, I’d say she’s naked underneath. But somehow the worst thing about her appearance is the fact that she’s barefoot. She looks completely at home. In Jackson’s home.

“Oh, it’s you.” Her tone is so incredibly condescending that under any other circumstance I’d be tempted to roll my eyes. But not now. Not like this. And I can hardly blame her for her obvious sense of superiority. From her model stature, she literally looks down on me.

I have to swallow twice before I find my voice. “Is Jackson home?” 

It’s such a stupid question. But I can’t think of anything else to say.

“He’s… unavailable.” As she says this, she waves her left hand to indicate back into the condo. And that’s when I see it. The sparkle. The glint of light reflecting off the giant diamond on her left ring finger.

She sees what I’m looking at, her eyes also going to the oversized stone. “I know you and Jackson had your little tryst. But playtime is over.”

“No.” It comes out like a question and I hardly recognize my own voice. This can’t be true.

“Yes. We got engaged long before Jackson ever met you. We took a break for a bit, but we’ve reconnected.” Her meaning is obvious.

I don’t know what to say. I can’t even begin to sift through my emotions. And that’s when I see the switch in her eyes. They’re still predatory, but the look is mimicking pity.

“Oh, sweetie, you didn’t think that you and Jackson were actually going to be a couple. Did you?”

Her words strike me like a slap. I did. I really did.

“I’m sorry, but maybe aim a little lower next time.” With those parting words, she shuts the door.

I sense myself backing away from Jackson’s apartment. This must be what shock feels like. I know where I am, but I don’t feel like I’m here. This doesn’t feel like a real moment.

A sound creeps up my throat.

There’s a crackling sensation inside my chest and I can almost hear my bits of armor as they slip away, falling to the floor. And as they fall, they allow the pain to start seeping in. 

I need to get away from here. I need to get out of this building and away from this feeling. I don’t even remember pressing the button to call the elevator, but as the doors slide open, I hear my phone chime with a new text.

I don’t even know why I pull it out, but I do.

Jackson: Sorry to cancel last minute but I won’t be able to see you tonight. Hope you haven’t left your house yet. Can you talk after the game tomorrow?

My chest clenches and it’s suddenly hard to pull air into my lungs. And in one painful moment, the rest of my defenses disintegrate. 

I stumble into the elevator.

How was I so stupid? Why did I ever think that what we had was special? In what world would Jackson and I really be together? He got what he wanted. He got a viral video to build his popularity. He got a night of sex. Now it’s back to his previous lover. A woman who is the exact opposite of me, in every way possible. 

Remembering how Lacy looked standing in Jackson’s doorway… I’ve never felt more worthless. More insignificant. And finally, with that realization, the tears start to fall. One after another. 

I can’t control them. I’m so mad. I’m mad at Jackson. I’m mad at everyone he introduced me to. I’m mad at Lacy. But mostly, I’m mad at myself. I’m fucking furious at myself. I should have known better. I should have known that I wasn’t made for this kind of life. That I wouldn’t have been enough.

A memory slams into my consciousness, and I have to pinch my lips together to keep from screaming. He heard me almost say that I loved him. I stopped, but he knew what I was going to say. God, he must have cringed so hard. There I was missing him, and loving him, and he was already done with me. Embarrassment washes over me, somehow making me feel even worse.

The doors open and I’m in the lobby. There are people here, but I don’t look up. I just run. I run like the foolish child that I am, straight out of the building. I think I hear Henry call my name, but I don’t stop. I don’t even stop when I get outside. I need to be somewhere else. 

Anywhere else.

Rounding the corner, I slow to a walk. The only thing that would make this moment more terrible would be tripping and falling onto the pavement. I feel pathetic enough without adding torn jeans and a bloody knee.

I reach up to rub away another cluster of tears. I’ve done this so many times already that I can feel the mascara staining my cheeks. 

Using the edge of my sleeve, I try to scrub away the evidence of my despair. I can tell I’m getting looks from the other pedestrians, but I keep my gaze on the sidewalk. I can’t add their opinions to my current list of concerns.

Finally, I stop walking and force myself to take a deep breath. Pinching my eyes closed I tip my head back and suck in another ragged lungful. You’d think after 30 years I’d learn how to guard my heart better. You’d think I’d know how to protect myself from pain and sorrow. You’d think I’d be smart enough to not just hand out pieces of my heart like tickets at a fair. I should know better. And yet… and yet I did just that. I willingly gave my love to Jackson, and now it feels like my heart is falling apart. 

How can something so new, someone so new, make me feel so much. So much hurt.

The clenching in my chest is back. Opening my eyes I look down, as if I might see my heart crawling up and out of my sweater. But all I see are my hands trembling, so I tighten my fingers into fists.

The sky picks this moment to open up. The temperature has been holding right around freezing, so the snow comes down as a rainy half-frozen mix. Most commonly referred to as sleet.

Fucking fitting.

I give up. I’m done fighting. I sit down right there on the curb. The tiny icy daggers dropping from above pinch at my exposed skin.

 I hear myself let out a huff of laughter. Then I lower my face into my hands and cry.