Roll Against Regret (3d20) (7 page)

It took the last of my restraint to keep the conversation with Carter from playing on a loop in my head. I settled back into my desk and pulled up the Zedophap files. I wouldn’t linger on what I’d just done. There was no reason to admit I’d turned down help I really could have used, because I still struggled with my past.

I swallowed all of the doubt and immersed myself in research. Carter came back about fifteen minutes later. He didn’t look in my direction, but he did approach Ryan, introduce himself, and ask if Ryan was available to answer questions if needed.

Ryan sent me an IM, asking what the deal was with my trainee going somewhere else. I ignored it, not sure what to say.

I hadn’t even been at what I was doing for half an hour, before my phone rang. I grabbed it, but didn’t recognize the extension. “This is Zoe.”

“Ms. Sutton, this is Greg Oliver. Will you join me and the other internal auditors in conference room I-32?”

My stomach dropped to my shoes. “Of course. Do I need to bring anything?”

“Just yourself, Ms. Sutton.”

“I’ll be right there.” As soon as I could force my legs to work and get back the thought in my brain. This was status quo, right? I’d never been through an audit before, but they were probably talking to everyone involved in the project. It didn’t mean anything that Mark hadn’t warned me. I forced my feet one in front of the other toward the room number provided.

When I got there, the room was lit, despite there being a projector on. Two men and a woman sat at the far end of the oblong table, paperwork spread out around them. All three heads swiveled in my direction when I hesitated in the doorway. The man in the middle stood. “Ms. Sutton, I’m Greg Oliver. Close the door and have a seat anywhere, please.”

He was probably the same age as me, but his posture and flat expression made it difficult to tell. I swallowed, but the lump in my throat refused to go away. My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I took the seat at the far end of the table from them. Nowhere seemed appropriate, but it was closest.

“Ms. Sutton, is it true you’re currently the responsible party for document control, in regards to the Zedophap contract?”

“Yes.” I noticed he didn’t bother introducing his colleagues. Was that significant, or just their means of being efficient? All three made notes as I spoke, none of their expressions shifting. It gave me the impression I was on trial.

“Thank you. And can you explain why almost every single digital document related to that account has been accessed in the last twenty-four hours?”

These were standard questions. They had to be. Of course they’d want to know that information. I collected my thoughts as neatly and quickly as I could, and explained it had been in preparation for the audit. From there, the questions flowed into an explanation of how I’d verified versions; why Ryan’s log-in information was on several of the files, when he’d previously been removed from the project for incompetence; how the file structure had gotten to be a mess in the first place; and everything in between.

I was half surprised they didn’t ask what I’d had for breakfast that morning, and if it had impacted my decision to keep the Zedophap files up to date.

It was almost two hours later, when Mr. Oliver finally nodded at the door. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Sutton. You may go now.”

I gave my polite goodbyes and shuffled back to my desk. I felt like I’d just been wrung out. How could something as simple as answering a series of questions leave me so exhausted? The journey back to my desk took me past Carter. From the corner of my eye, I saw him swivel his head toward me, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. The last thing I was up for right now was another conversation. With anyone. About anything. But especially with him. My filters were all but gone, and odds were too high I’d say something I couldn’t take back.

I managed to get back into my research, though at this point I wasn’t sure why I tried. The auditors would find it or they wouldn’t. I’d explained myself—did it even matter what I uncovered? The clock crept toward noon, and I’d never been so relieved for lunch time approaching.

I was about to wrap up everything and take a much needed break, when my phone rang again. This time I recognized the extension as belonging to one of the women in human resources. “This is Zoe.”

“Hi, Zoe. This is Jennifer. Do you have a minute to talk to me, in my office?”

“Of course.” My hand shook when I cradled the phone. This was nothing. Just like the auditor’s questions. Nothing at all. I kept a brisk pace across the building. The faster I got this over with, the faster I’d know nothing was wrong. This was about… I didn’t know. Something normal and ordinary.

The bottom fell out of my world when I saw Mark Kitner leaning against the windowsill behind Jennifer, who sat at her desk. A loud buzzing grew in my ears, and my head spun, as they asked me once again to close the door and have a seat.

The next fifteen minutes were the most surreal of my life. Jennifer explained they were letting me go. Kitner added I was lucky it wasn’t worse. The auditors had concerns about my numbers, but there was no reason to believe I was responsible for anything. Jennifer took back over and told me I shouldn’t expect legal ramifications if I hadn’t done anything wrong, but I should be aware it was being considered.

I wasn’t sure exactly what I said, but I forced myself to be polite. I wouldn’t be the person who screamed and raged about being fired, despite the voice in my head insisting this wasn’t fair. I signed termination paperwork, shook both their hands, and didn’t miss Mark’s smirk when he wished me good luck with my career.

A security guard waited outside Jennifer’s office. My face burned hot as he walked me back to my desk—my former desk. My computer had already been turned off, and a box sat next to everything else. I was allowed to take anything obviously mine. The reference books. The picture of Jackson and the two stuffed wizards he’d given me to watch over me at work.

I had to leave all the paperwork behind. Every eye in the room had to be on me. As security escorted me toward the door, Carter rose from his desk. I shot him a look. I wasn’t even sure what I was trying to convey beyond
don’t
, but he had to have gotten the message. He frowned and sank back into his seat. The guard stayed by my side until I was in my car, and even then waited for me to pull out of the parking lot. I finally saw him head back into the building in my rear view mirror.

The numbness evaporated as I left the property. I didn’t even make it as far as the gas station, before tears flowed down my cheeks. I pulled into the same parking lot I’d argued in with Carter hours earlier, found the furthest spot from the road, and shut off my engine. I couldn’t hold back the sobs. They wracked my body, until my chest ached and I couldn’t breathe. It wasn’t like it had been the best job in the world, but I had done it right, and the thanks I got was to be dumped at the front step and humiliated.

My crying finally slowed, and I managed to wipe most of the tears away. I sent Jackson a short text, not trusting myself to call him.
I was fired.
I almost broke when I swiped out the short note.

Ten minutes later, I pulled into my building’s parking lot and dragged myself up to my place. My apartment had always felt lonely to me. A place I went to sleep when I wasn’t with Jackson, and to grab fresh clothes when the need arose. It never felt this empty before, though. I sank into an easy chair, tucked my legs under me, and stared at the wall. The tears were gone. The only thing left was dry eyes and an empty hole in my chest, trying to figure out what I was supposed to do next.

I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, staring into nothing. I’d intentionally avoided the clock and stashed my phone out of reach, because I wanted to feel the blankness and live in it. A bit of me knew it was melodramatic, but that was fine with me.

Someone knocked. I didn’t have the energy to answer. Missionaries, probably. Or a lost pizza guy. They’d get the hint. Seconds later, the latch snicked open, and Jackson walked in. Maybe I should have locked that.

He stopped next to my chair, nothing but concern in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Pixie. What can I do?”

Instinct told me to fall into his arms. To lose myself in the comfort, the way we always did with each other. It wouldn’t help, though. Hugs couldn’t fix this. “Nothing. There’s nothing to do.”

“I took the rest of the day off.” He sounded so kind. So sympathetic. “We’ll go wherever you want, even if it’s just here.”

No. I didn’t want here to be a place I was comforted. This wasn’t
ours.
Something snapped inside me. Days and months of holding back. Being diplomatic. Trying to figure out which way was up, and how to right a series of mistakes that weren’t meant to hurt anyone. At work and in my personal life. It was all a mess, and every time I tried to make things right, I made them worse. So maybe the answer was to stop trying so hard. “I want for this to not have happened. I want Kitner to rot in hell for setting me up.”

Jackson rested a hand on my shoulder. “That’s fair. Since it’s not an option though, what do you want to do instead?”

Irrational irritation flooded me. He was working to help me. To calm me down. It was kind and thoughtful, and so very Jackson. And I didn’t want to be reasonable. “Fuck it all, Jackson. What I want is for you to be furious alongside me. I need to rage over this. To vent and scream and hate the world. I don’t want you to wrap me up and tell me it’ll be okay, because right now it’s not okay, and I can’t see past now. I want you to get angry. To lose your cool. To tell me what you’re actually thinking, instead of glossing over this in that fucking calm voice of yours.”

I should take back the last few words. Even if he hadn’t cringed, I’d know that. But the words were out there, and I didn’t know if I wanted to cover them up again.

Jackson stepped back. “I’m sorry if I offended you.”

The sterile apology. The patronizing calm. It snapped something inside. “Stop being fucking sorry. Sorry won’t fix this. Sorry isn’t vengeance. Hate my boss for setting me up, hate a system that trusts computers that can be tricked over people who know their jobs. Hate me for not getting over Carter. Be pissed about something.”

“I’ll come back later. Once you’ve chilled out.” Jackson spoke through clenched teeth.

“Fine. Do that.” I was being cruel. I was being completely unreasonable. Part of me knew I needed to back up now, or things would break and change forever, but it wasn’t enough to stop me.

Jackson shook his head, spun on his toe, and stalked toward the door. He paused, hand on the knob, and whirled back to face me. Fire danced in his eyes—a fury I’d never seen from him before. “You know what? I am mad. Pissed off as hell. You want rage? You want me to stop trying to paint sunshine on things? This thing at work isn’t your fault. You tried. This firing you thing? You got shafted. But I hate what you have with Carter. I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t bother me.”

Of course he’d latch on to what I said about Carter. That was the perfect way to fuck things up completely. My laugh was bitter. “Thanks for your support.”

“You wanted to make this personal. You wanted a verbal punching bag, and I’m here for you when you need a shoulder, but I didn’t sign on for what you’re doing now. So you’re in the mood to use getting fired as an excuse to lay this all on the line? Let’s do that. Spew it all out into the open. Make some new scars. Reopen some old wounds, because you can’t cope with grief.”

“Sorry we can’t all be zen masters like you.” I needed to stop talking. To plug this out-of-control demon spewing from me. But I didn’t know if I could. It was as if a cord had been yanked, and I knew now that we’d started, if this didn’t all come out with Jackson, it wouldn’t matter if we backpedaled and I apologized. Things were never going to heal between us.

“Carter wouldn’t be here right now. He’d be back at the office, screaming at Mark Kitner on my behalf.” I bit back a wince as soon as the words were out. That had been too much.

“Would he?” Jackson asked. “He watched you leave, right? Do you think your big, bad protector is doing that right now? Screaming at a boss he barely knows, for something he never has to be involved with? Is that even what you want? You’d willingly go back to being the girl who lets everyone else make her decisions? Who regrets the only choice she ever made on her own at that point in her life? You still love Carter, and you knew that when you said yes the other night. You’ve never even tried to stop caring about him. I’m not a good enough man to pretend that doesn’t devour me.”

Every new word dug deeper, gouging me. And they were all true. The fire was fading from my argument, leaving me grasping for a retort. “You said you were okay with what happened. You said it was sexy and that you didn’t have a problem sharing me. You suggested we go through with it.”

“I’m fine with Carter as Dark. And yes, you fucking him was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen. And yeah—sharing? I’m still okay with that, if we both agree on it, but only if I know you’re coming home to me at the end of the night. That’s so much of what makes this work. That’s
the
thing this arrangement has to have. Trust.”

“And you don’t trust me.” I didn’t have to ask. The statement was rhetorical.

“You’re still second-guessing a decision you made five years ago. You don’t trust yourself. How am I supposed to?”

I didn’t know what to do or say. I’d just wanted an outlet for my anger at work, and now I’d opened this can that could never be closed again. “You’re right. There are times I question my own decisions. If that’s a problem, we’re a problem.”

“That’s what you want. Really?”

“No, it’s not.” I wouldn’t cry. I wouldn’t cave now. “But you don’t trust me to make that decision, remember?”

Jackson’s frown vanished behind a stony mask. “Goodbye, Zoe.”