Read Not Looking for Love: Episode 6 (A New Adult Contemporary Romance Novel) for Free Online

But I guess he's right. Gail and me together was just a wishful intermission.
    "That's the exit," I say pointing at the sign that will take us back home.  
    Mike mutters something under his breath, probably cursing me, but pulls off the expressway.  
    I get out of the car in front of the bakery, ignore him saying goodbye and that he'll call me soon.
    Ava's been. The whole apartment smells of the lasagna she brought, the smell mixing with the pine cleaner she uses to wash the floors. I wish she'd stop coming, and, at the same time, wish she was still here.
    I take a bite of the lasagna, but I can hardly swallow it. The brownish red color of it reminds me too much of that poor man's face. Then I'm pacing again, because I can't sit still, can't stop seeing the dying guy, can't stop thinking about the fucked up mess I'm in, how it’s so much worse than anything I've ever faced, and there’s no way out.
    If I leave right now, I can still catch the bank in Connecticut. I need some money. And maybe being in the same town as Gail will make me see this more clearly.  

    I get to the bank with barely ten minutes to spare and take out a couple of thousand, since I don't know when I'll have the nerve to come back here again.
    Being in the same town as Gail solves nothing. All it does is bring my need to see her bubbling to the surface, until I'm parked across the street from the apartment, gripping the steering wheel so hard my forearms are cramping up. I can't go in, but I want to.
    The windows are dark and none of the lights come on for the whole hour I'm sitting there. She's not home. But I could call her. Meet her. Tell her everything. Then she would understand why we can't be together. It's that last thought that stops me. It’s selfish. Knowing nothing, she’s safe and alive. If I tell her, she could be dead.
    My need to see her is so strong, I feel her sitting in the car next to me, smell her, feel her soft skin against mine as I stretch out my hand to grip her imaginary one. If I could just hold her one last time, feel her body pressed against mine, that would be enough. It really would.   The fact that she probably hates me for what I did hurts, but it’s a drop in the ocean compared to the all-consuming pain of not being able to be with her.
    My phone rings and I snatch it out of my pocket. Maybe Gail knows I'm here, is calling me to come in. But it's not that phone ringing. It's the one Mike gave me.
    "Where are you?" Mike snarls as I pick up.
    I'm just sitting there with my mouth open, no response coming to me.  
    "I went down to the beach," I lie, my heart thundering in my chest. Does he know I’m in Connecticut? How much proof does Mike need to carry out his threat? Not much probably, he's a psycho.
    “A bit cold for swimming, don’t you think?” he asks.
    I start the engine and drive off, fear making my breath catch in my throat. This was such a dumb idea. What if he goes after Gail now? It's what he wants to do. I know it.
    "You sure you don’t wanna do something tonight?" he asks, and my relief is so great I almost say yes. Until I remember what he is.
    "I think I'll just stay in and think about shit," I say instead, regaining some composure. What I actually want to say is, “No way, psycho’.
    Maybe he hears it anyway because the line goes real quiet like the connection dropped.  
    "Some other time then," he says, and there's such hurt in his voice I just want to scream at him. He's the fucking psycho. If he wants to hang out, he has to start acting normal. But I'm not sure he can.  
    "Yeah," I mutter and hang up before I say anything more. This whole situation is so beyond fucked up, I don’t even know how to begin unraveling it.

    "You're early," Phillipa says when I show up at her house at six fifteen. She eyes my bag. "You're staying the night?"
    I shrug and squeeze past her into the hall. "I might, if you don't mind."
    She gives me a sad, knowing smile and nods, gripping both of my hands in hers.