Damaged: The Dillon Sisters by Layla Frost (good story books to read .txt) 📕

the action made me envious. How stupid was that? I was envious of her freedom to roll her eyes. If I did that in group or one-on-one therapy, I’d end up with extra sessions piled on to address my mood.

“What’re you up to after your stint as overqualified tour guide?” I asked before immediately wishing I could choke on my strictly conversational words.

Just as I feared, my sister read more into the question than I’d intended. “I have some paperwork to do at my practice, but it can wait. Do you want to grab dinner?”

That’s literally the last thing in the world I want right now.

It wasn’t anything personal. I always needed alone time to decompress after any session.

“I would,” I lied before continuing to lie some more, “but I think I’m going to run home and change so I can meet up with some people from group.”

Her blue eyes—one of our few shared characteristics—lit with glee and a grin split her pretty face. “That’s awesome.”

Feeling like shit for avoiding dinner with her and for lying in order to do so, guilt ate at me until I was forced to offer, “Can we do dinner tomorrow instead?”

I figured it was safe to ask since she’d likely shoot me down, making us even. If James Brown was the hardest working man in show business, Aria Dillon was the hardest working woman in mental health. In addition to her hours at the clinic, she worked her ass off at her private practice, trying to get it up and running.

I knew my plan backfired when her grin grew, and I was seriously worried she’d damage the nerves in her cheeks if she kept it up. “Sounds good. We’ll get Mexican.”

That elicited a genuine smile from me as we both wistfully sighed, “Salsa.”

Suddenly, I wasn’t dreading the impending dinner. If it weren’t for the fact group always drained me, the promise of fresh salsa may have been enough to make me change my mind about going right then.

“Do you have a shift at the rescue tomorrow?” she asked.

“Yes, but I’m done by five.”

I usually stuck around off the clock to help out, but I’d make sure I broke away on time since it clearly meant a lot to her.

Plus, that whole salsa thing.

“Okay, I’ll text tomorrow.” She pulled me into another hug and didn’t seem surprised or fazed when I didn’t return it. “Be careful and have fun tonight!”

“I will.”

Because I’ll be in the comfort of my own home.

With a smile that was actually kinda real—she was the one person who made that happen—I headed outside.

When I got to my bus stop, I dug around in my bag for my pass. Just as my fingers closed around it, someone bumped me from behind. My purse and its contents skittered across the sidewalk, leaving me standing there holding the laminated card and nothing else.

“Shit, sorry,” a deep voice said.

Thankfully, my heart rate didn’t accelerate into panic attack territory at someone so close behind me, likely because I quickly dropped to my knees to collect the hodgepodge of purse clutter before it blew away.

Whoever it was crouched, too, grabbing my purse and shoving stuff in. His long arm span made quick work of it before he stood, still holding my purse in one hand as he offered me the other.

I finally looked up into a pair of mesmerizing honey-brown eyes, and Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love You started playing dramatically.

In my head, at least.

Not because it was love at first sight or any unrealistic bullshit that never actually happened. It just seemed appropriate since that song was in The Bodyguard, and it was the tech nerd’s bodyguard who stood there.

Ignoring his hand, I got to my feet and took my stuff from him. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, I’m the one who wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“It’s fine.” Even though the state of chaos in my purse was already making me anxious.

His brown eyes narrowed as he studied me. “You okay? I knocked you pretty hard.”

No.

But I never am.

“I’m stronger than I look,” I lied. And it was a big one, too.

He smiled down at me, and, if I were normal, I’d have smiled back. Maybe I’d have flirted. Maybe I’d have told him that he could repay the inconvenience by buying me coffee.

Maybe I’d have done the bare minimum and simply introduced myself.

But I wasn’t normal, so I didn’t do any of that.

Not that he was waiting on bated breath for me to do anything. He offered one last apology before turning and walking away.

I watched him head down the street toward the parking lot. Or, more specifically, I watched his ass. It should’ve been a crime for a pair of pants to fit someone so well. Or for someone to be that attractive. It was unfair to the rest of the universe for him to throw off the hotness bell curve so much.

When he was almost to the corner, he looked over his shoulder and locked eyes with mine.

Shit.

Busted.

I averted my gaze, pretending I was scanning the area and not staring at him like a freak.

Kill me now, ‘kay? Thanks.

I wasn’t struck down, but my bus pulled up, and that was the next best thing.

Alexander

THAT WASN’T THE smoothest meeting…

Walking away from the gorgeous blonde, I wondered if I should’ve introduced myself. It hadn’t seemed like a good idea. She’d looked freaked enough and desperate for an escape. Not that I blamed her. An emergency text had come through and I’d been looking down at my cell when I’d bumped into her.

Great job, asshole.

Needing another look, I glanced over my shoulder.

Still standing where I’d left her, her long hair blew back in the breeze as if she were a model in a shampoo commercial.

She was gorgeous enough to be.

Her big blue eyes were brighter in the hint of sun. They were just as pretty as the rest of her.

They were also still aimed my way.

When I met her gaze, she jolted before quickly looking away.

Her