Chapter Nine

December

"Alaric stopped by last night," Jillian says, eyeing me over the rim of her coffee mug. "I told him that you didn't want to see him."

"I don't," I lie, carefully avoiding her gaze. The truth is, I feel like a jerk for running out. If he thinks the worst about me, can I really blame him?

I'm the one lying. I'm the one pretending to be someone I'm not. If he thinks I'm using him for something, it's my own stupid fault for not telling him the truth sooner. But I didn't think about it that way last night. At least not until I was at home in my bed, staring up at the ceiling and missing his sexy smirk.

"You should talk to him, December."

I look at Jillian this time. "What happened to 'forget about the big jerk'?" I demand. "That's what you said last night."

"That's before I met the big jerk." She grimaces, somehow managing to look guilty and amused at the same time. "He likes you, December. Like crawl through a blizzard in his underwear likes you. Don't let that slip through your fingers because you're afraid."

"Who said I'm afraid? I'm not afraid."

"Liar," Jillian says. "We both know that's why you really ran last night. You're in love with him and you're terrified he doesn't feel the same."

"What if he doesn't?" I whisper, staring into my coffee like it holds the answers to the universe.

"What if he does?" she retorts.

I glance up at her again.

"You'll never know if you never stop running."

She's right, dang it. I am in love with him. And when he said what he did, it hurt because I thought he couldn't possibly think that if he felt the same way about me. So I ran. I'm good at running. It's easier to protect my heart if I never risk it.

But if I never risk it, I'll spend the rest of my life dreaming about him...just like I've spent the last six years dreaming about him. I never forgot him for a reason. And he never forgot me either.

Maybe the truth is embarrassing, but I owe it to myself to tell it anyway. Which means I have to talk to him. I have to see him.

Gulp.

I show up for clean-up duty at noon with my heart in my throat and anxiety coursing through my veins instead of blood. In the light of day, the decorations transforming the showroom into an opulent winter wonderland seem just as magical as they did last night. At least until I find out that Alaric isn't coming.

He's skipping out on clean-up for the first time that anyone can remember. So is Blaze. Everyone looks to me for answers, but I keep my head down, pretending I don't see their questioning looks and curious stares.

Eventually, they give up on getting anything out of me, turn the music up, and let me clean in peace. Not that I find much of that. He's avoiding me.

Is it too late for me to fix what I messed up last night?

My heart aches at the thought.

It takes five hours to return the showroom to its former glory. By the time we're finished, the only thing left is the massive tree.

Alaric never puts in an appearance.

"Oh, shoot!" Sariah cries as everyone else is stacking boxes. "Someone needs to run by the warehouse to make sure the truck left room for everything."

"Seriously?" Claudia scowls, pushing her hair back from her forehead. "I'm sure it's fine. Besides, my feet already hurt."

"That's because you wore ballet flats," Troy from accounting mutters, hoisting a box over his head. "You need to invest in sneakers."

"They'll pry my shoes out of my cold, dead hands," Claudia snaps. "I am not wearing sneakers."

"I'll go," I say.

Everyone turns to look at me.

"I'll go," I repeat. "Just tell me what I need to do."

Sariah shoots me a grateful smile. "I knew I loved you for a reason. You just need to make sure the delivery truck left room for the boxes. They were dropping off fabric today, but the warehouse is packed right now."

"Oh my God." Claudia rolls her eyes. "It's fine. Just leave the boxes and let the movers figure it out."

"I'll go. It's not a problem." I'm ready to get out of here anyway. The longer I'm here, the more time I have to think about the fact that Alaric didn't show up today.

Claudia snorts and then shrugs like it’s my problem, not hers.

"You'll need the door code," Sariah says before giving it to me. Once I repeat it back, she gives me a grateful smile. "Thanks, Jill."

I cringe at the sound of my sister’s name. It's another reminder that Alaric isn't the only one I've been lying to around here. They all believe I'm someone I'm not. Maybe they've gotten to know the real me, but they still think I'm Jill. I doubt they're going to be thrilled when they find out the truth.

It was naive and shortsighted to think I could do this without anyone getting hurt. The thing about lies is that they're never entirely innocent. Someone always gets hurt.

I hate that I let myself believe any differently this time. It was selfish. And this is the one time of year when we're supposed to be the best versions of ourselves, not the worst. Lately, I think I've been the worst.

The warehouse is a thirty-minute drive from the office on a good day. Thanks to an accident, it takes me over an hour to get there. By the time I pull in, the entire block is dark and empty. There isn't another car in sight.

It's creepy as hell.

I linger in my car for several long moments before I finally work up the courage to go check the warehouse. Walking across the parking lot feels like walking the gallows. There's no one around, yet my imagination says there are eyes following my every move.

I end up sprinting the last several feet, only to lose my balance and trip over the sidewalk. I land on my knees with my shoulder against the door.

"Jeez," I mutter, hauling myself upright. My right knee burns and throbs faintly. I scraped it. Awesome.

Huffing a breath, I punch in the door code and let myself into the warehouse. The door swings closed behind me, plunging me into darkness.

I scramble for the light switch, breathing a sigh of relief as light floods the warehouse. Like Sariah said, it's packed. Bolts and boxes of fabric are stacked to the rafters in the temperature-controlled room. Clothing hangs on hooks from one end of the place to the other, ready to be shipped out to their boutiques and partners.

I wander around in a daze, peeking at the designs that won't even be in stores for weeks and months. I feel like Dorothy getting a glimpse behind the curtain, only the magic of Oz is even more wonderful than expected. The spring line is bold and fun, with sexy tops and gorgeous, flowing dresses that will make any curvy girl feel like a confident queen.

It's no wonder Daphne Parrish & Co is at the top of the game. They know how to dress curvy girls.

A row of cocktail dresses in the very back catches my eye. I practically float toward them, squeezing between boxes and shifting others out of the way. Halfway there, the alarm on the warehouse door sounds.

I stop, turning toward it. I'm not sure who or what I expect. Sariah. Maybe even Claudia or Troy. Certainly not a man dressed in all black with a mask over his face.

"Cut the fucking lights before someone sees us," he growls.

My blood runs cold as realization dawns. He isn't an employee, and he isn't here on business. I think he's robbing the place. And he brought help.

The lights cut off, plunging the warehouse into darkness.

I drop to my knees, my heart racing as pure terror fires through me. Holding my breath, I pray he didn't see me. Didn't hear me. I crawl deeper into the warehouse, moving slowly.

"Ignore the fabric boxes. We want the clothes. Get whatever you can carry and hurry the fuck up," the first man says.

"Man, your sister better not be lying about the resell value for this shit," someone else mutters.

"She's not," the first one says. "She knows her shit."

"She should. She's been working for these motherfuckers long enough." The second one laughs. "Think she has a clue that you swiped the code from her email?"

"Nah. She trusts me."

"What's up with the car in the parking lot?" a third voice says. "I thought you said this place would be empty."

I bite my lip, fighting back a terrified sob.

"It is empty, jackass. It's probably just someone who caught a ride. They had that fucking party yesterday. Probably drank too much," the first one says. "Grab some shit, and let's get the fuck out of here."

I wedge myself into the back corner, hiding behind a stack of boxes as they rob the place. Time stretches on and on, seemingly forever. I don't know how long they're inside. But eventually, they leave.

I stay right where I am, too afraid to move. Too afraid to breathe too deeply.

When I finally crawl from my hiding place, I don't go to the police. I run to the only person I know who makes me feel safe.

I run to Alaric.