Things Remembered (Accidentally On Purpose Companion Novel #3) Read Free Page A

smile, or some kind of palsy.
    I’d glanced back up at Kyle, whose face hadn’t changed. He didn’t smile, nor did he seem surprised or angry. He hadn’t even placed a protective hand over his balls. He’d just continued to wear what I later dubbed his “Bitch Face,” which, for the most part, was his normal expression.
    “Emmy Grayne highly—if not erringly—recommended you, but I do not want you in my department. Besides, it is more likely that you will soon slip back into your old ways than to succeed here. How unfortunate that you will probably destroy your relation’s credibility.”
    He’d given me one last hard look and then headed toward the door.
    My hatred for him right then was enormous. I hadn’t hated him for the calloused and stabbing things he’d said previously. I had most likely said worse things to other people, and without the eloquence that he’d possessed. What I’d hated him for was his last couple sentences alone.
    Every day had been a struggle to keep my feet on the ground. Every hour, every minute…every second. It had taken an astounding amount of power to convince not only everyone around me, but myself as well, that I could do it—that I could get through a day without failing, let alone get through the rest of my life. Much too quickly, Kyle Sterling had made me second guess myself. The little bit of confidence that I’d had, along with the confidence that I’d pretended to have, had been blasted away.
    Had he made a derogatory comment about my weight, my mixed race, or the old track marks on my arms, it would have had far less of a negative impact on me. I hadn’t feared not getting a job at Sterling, there were other places to work. No, my worst fears had been that I’d lose myself to the drugs again and let everyone down.
    “Dickhead,” I’d muttered over my shoulder. It hadn’t been the most mature response, but it was heartfelt.
    “Excuse me?”
    When I’d glanced back up, I noticed he’d stopped just in the doorway and glared at me with a raised eyebrow. He probably didn’t expect me to repeat it.
    At that point, I didn’t really have anything to lose. If I hadn’t lost my employment prospects over threatening bodily harm to the man whose last name had marked the front of the building, surely, I wouldn’t have lost any by my next words.
    I’d turned in my seat so that he’d see my lips moving when I spoke, just in case he really was hard of hearing. “You are a dickhead,” I’d said, pronouncing each word carefully. “An itchy, infected, puss-oozing penis head.”
    His eyes had darkened, but he’d kept his bitch face in place when he’d said, “Well, with your past, I suppose you would know what an infected, puss-oozing penis head looks like.”
    He’d walked away before I could even contemplate throwing anything at him. Distractedly, I had turned back around in my seat.
    Keith had cleared his throat when I bent forward to pick up my purse off the floor. I knew the man was about to dismiss me from his sight. My mind had raced as I’d tried to recall the other places I had applied at.
    “I apologize for the, erm, distraction,” Keith had said after clearing his throat again.
    I’d raised my eyes to meet his, and I’d found him smiling. My jaw had fallen open and my eyebrows shot up. I’d closed my mouth and then opened it again, unsure how to respond.
    Keith had leaned forward conspiringly. I’d leaned forward as well, an automatic response when someone is about to share a secret.
    “I’ve never seen anyone stand up to him like that,” he’d whispered. “In the very least, your interaction with Kyle Sterling will be entertaining for the rest of us.” He’d winked at me and he no longer seemed to be nervous. “Now, would you like to discuss the human resources position?”
    That first meeting with Kyle had sparked a hateful relationship that had lasted for years. Emmy hadn’t been too fond of him, either. She’d nicknamed him Douche