The Publicist's Plight (Book I in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Twenty Four: The Ridiculous Odds

I would be lying if I didn't admit that I secretly await Sebastian's arrival.

About how I secretly think he's going to walk up to me, apologize, and hopefully say more honeyed words that will sequentially stir my judgment and make me forgive him. And how I secretly think that this will all be over then; by the time he apologizes, someone will rescue us and take us home, where we can finally rest and forget this ever happened.

But that isn't the case. Because when I turn my head to the right of the road, pass the blinding rays of the sun, I see Sebastian walking.

Away from me.

His legs move at a slower pace on the gravel. His hands are in his front pockets, and his head is facing the sun in the sky. But he's walking, and he isn't looking back. My heart weighs down on my lung for a moment until I force myself to remember this is what I wanted. I told him to leave, and I told him to come back when he finds help if he wanted. So I guess it's my fault for believing in the art of reverse psychology to prevail in a situation like this, with a man like him, whose mind is something no one has successfully unlocked and understood the depths of.

I bring my thighs up to my chest and rest my forearms on my knees. He left me, I and I'm alone now. Which is what I wanted, I remind myself again. However, I sit here in the middle of nowhere with no clue of where to go. And my pride disallows me from getting up with my things and running back to his side. So truthfully, for once, I honestly have no clue what to do next. With that thought, I stare at the sky again quietly.

"I should have never said yes," I mumble into my arm before resting my cheek on it. "I should have never said yes to this. I could have been home, with my dog, and my sorrow over Hudson and Alejandra being the sorry pieces of shit they are. Those would have been the worst of my woes. Not being stuck out here."

And then suddenly, I'm crying. Again. This is the most I've cried in a week in my whole life, and I hate it; I've always hated crying, and refrain from doing so at all costs. But the tears pool in my eyes and flow gently down my cheek on their own, and I do nothing to stop them. I'm not sobbing, thankfully, but it's a modest cry—the type of cry that's silent and easily dismissible. The frustrated cry, perhaps. The cry that accumulates after going through a lot. Two tears, then three, then four fall down on my arm, then they all silently make a moist trail on my face. It's all beyond frustrating, and it makes me even more angry the only productive thing I can do in a situation like this is cry. Silently.

And it's also frustrating two out of the three times I've cried this week have been because of Sebastian. And I've only known him for exactly one week.

Mad at myself for being so vulnerable, I remove every trace of tears until my face burns from my hands wiping continuously across it. I sniffle a few times and pat my cheeks to awaken my senses.

"Goddammit, get it together, Leslie King," I tell myself in my nasally glory.

I force my eyes not to look down the road again. Sebastian is already gone, by educated guess, and reminding myself of it will only make this situation even more shitty than it already is.

So instead, I look down at my feet, but then look at the meadow across the road when I can't bear the sight of cuts and bruises. The grass moves gracefully in the breeze, and for a moment, I zone out at just watch the grass and weeds move together in harmony.

My eyes feel heavier than before. I'm tired, and I'm close to dozing off into slumber against the wooden fence, accompanied by the wind against my ears and the soft greenery underneath my soles. But right when I close my eyes, I hear scrapping nearby, and before I know it, Sebastian is next to me, sitting down by my side at the edge of the road and sighing in relief.