Scales: Of Justice (Broken But ... Mending Book 3) (9 page)

There was pause before he answered, “Yes in that every person on our path helps each of us. She triggered a lot of issues. I met her after my wife and I broke up. So I needed the new perspective. The awareness that came from a few things she said.”

“Yeah, she’s good at that.”

“I know this is intensely personal but I have to ask, do you mean to say you have never had a sexual relationship?”

This time she looked right at him. “The way you mean, no.” She picked up the pace. The hotel should be around the corner. Not close enough, but it was her fault for bringing up the personal questions in the first place.

Glancing over at him, she could see him desperately wanting to ask more but not knowing how. “What you really want to know is what happened so I avoid men?” At his nod, she said, “I won’t be sharing that until you’re ready to share your mess. However, I was never raped, if that’s what you’re thinking, but there are things that can happen to you that are much worse.”

Half shocked at what she said but mostly shocked at her ability to go there and still breathe, she turned, ready to bolt toward the hotel. When he grabbed her arm, she froze.

“Look, I’m sorry. Curiosity is natural, but it can also be destructive. I do understand that before growth comes the breaking down of barriers.” Weaver said with a sigh and looked toward the hotel. “I only want you to tell me what you want to tell. I’m a good listener.”

“But not necessarily someone who plans to grow past your own issues.” With a tight smile, she pulled away from his grasp. “It’s one thing to share and have sharing go both ways. It’s another thing to talk to a therapist.” She turned her back on him. “I have Jenna for the latter position already. Thanks though,” she said with excruciating care. “I’ll find someone else to do the sharing thing with.”

Looking forward, she picked up her footsteps and ran.

Part of her never wanted to see him again. Yet part of her wanted him to follow. But why would he? He’d have to step up and be himself. A workshop participant was all about giving and taking. And she doubted he was up for much more of it.

Putting him firmly out of her mind, she rushed inside the front entrance, blind to the group milling about. There were so many she had to slip around people to get where she needed to go. She was getting hungry, but the restaurant was looking overwhelmingly full. Damn.

Why now?

Finally, she managed to reach the wall of elevators and came up against a huge billboard standing between the elevators. The boards were full of information, but her gaze was caught on the one word at the top. Justice.

Jesus. Like she needed more of that.

Her heart pounded and tears filled her eyes. She turned in slow motion to realize many of the people there were in uniform. Police uniforms. Some men wore suits, but all carried themselves the same way. The place was filled with cops. There was no room to stand, let alone breathe.

Then she caught sight of one man’s profile. Her heart stalled then raced ahead as if trying to reach safety before the rest of her could. Please don’t let it be him. Not now. Not here.

His features came up sharper. Dear God.

She closed her eyes and very slowly turned to face the elevators. Her feet were screaming at her to run. Now.

She bolted for the stairs.

Just as she disappeared around the corner, she heard someone call her name.

Blind, her only objective to get inside her room, alone, she ran. Faster.

*

Weaver watched Paris
disappear from sight.

Now what the hell was going on? Paris was continuing her confusing mix of personalities. Just when she began to open up and share, only when it got seriously interesting, she shut off the valve. And he really wanted to know the rest of it. It was not in him to leave a woman walking alone in Vancouver on the streets, and he’d kept up with her flight. Back at the hotel, he’d seen her make her way through the crowd. Being tall, he’d easily tracked her progress to the elevators. But he couldn’t see the reason for her sudden bolt up the stairs. Was she claustrophobic? He hadn’t seen signs of it before, but then again, the crowd here was intense.

Some kind of law enforcement seminar was going on. Cool.

He managed to find his way through the crowd to the stairs and followed her up.

There were others going ahead of him. He hated being worried about her, but there was something about that eager beaver attitude and wanting-to-make-her-life-happen innocence that was begging for trouble. She’d seen a lot in her life already, but damn he didn’t want her to be hit with more.

Weaver followed her up to the fourth floor, but by the time he got up there, the hall was empty. She must have made it to the safety of her room already.

Inside his room, he tossed his light jacket over the back of his chair when someone knocked on his door. He went to answer it, only to find it hadn’t been on his door but on the room across the hall. The older man in a police uniform turned to look. Weaver smiled and went to close the door.

The man called out, “Paris, are you in there? I know you likely don’t remember me…”

Silence.

“I was hoping to meet you now that I know you are here.”

More silence.

Weaver opened the door wider and said, “I think I saw her leave a little bit ago.”

“Oh.” The policemen looked at the door, then at him. “Okay. I thought she came here, but I’ll check at the front desk and try calling her.” He nodded to him. “Thanks.”

Weaver waited until the man got onto the elevator and went downstairs. Should he knock on the door?

If he didn’t try, he wouldn’t know, but why would she answer him if she wouldn’t answer the other man? The officer seemed to know her.

Still, he couldn’t leave it. With his own door closed, he crossed the short distance to hers. The first rap yielded no response. He rapped again. “Paris, it’s Weaver.”

No response. He looked down the hallway and knocked again. Then he heard the heavy, gut-wrenching sobs within. Shit. Pounding on the door now, he insisted. “Paris, this is Weaver. Let me in.”

“No,” she cried from inside. “Go away.”

“I need to know that you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” she said, her voice shaking. At the end, it broke, and so did a little bit of the stone around his heart. He’d tried letting his guard down once before in an attempt to lead a normal life. Have a normal marriage. It hadn’t worked, so he’d put everything back up thicker and stronger than before. But there was something about Paris that brought it crumbling down again.

“I don’t think so.”

No answer.

“That policeman was trying to get a hold of you.”

She gasped. Suddenly, the door was flung open and she stared at him in shock, her huge eyes terrified. “No, no. He can’t find me.” Wide-eyed and panicked, she looked down the hallway first one way then the other before grabbing his arm and pulling him inside.

“Why not? Are you running from the law?” he asked carefully. “Or are you just running from him?”

“I’m not running at all,” she said crossly, wiping her eyes. “I don’t want to see him. Ever.”

“He looked harmless. In fact, he looked really earnest. Like he was hoping to talk to you.”

“He’s part of my past.” Her voice quivered as she shook her head. “I can’t see him again.”

Wavering on her feet, Paris started shaking.

“Okay, easy.” Immediately he reached for her and tugged her into his arms, wondering at this woman who spent so much of her time on his mind or in his arms when what he really wanted was to take her into his bed. The worst thing he could do – for himself and for her. Hell, he’d gone down that path once. So not a good idea. If he was going to be with someone again, it would have to be someone who’d dealt with all her shit. Not someone looking at him to fix her stuff.

As he knew all too well, he couldn’t fix anything.

Her body relaxed against him for a long moment, neither of them moving, just resting, needing the peace of the moment. The only sound was their synchronized breathing.

All of a sudden, she pulled back. Never quite letting down her guard. Always aware of that line.

He found it – her – fascinating.

“I’m fine.” She walked into the room and sat down on the small chair. “Honest, I am.”

“Good. Then let’s go get some dinner. I’m starving.”

But her head was frantically sending her hair flying out. “No, I can’t go down. I might see him.”

At a loss for words, he asked. “What if he’s here for more than just today?”

A visible shudder wracked down her slender frame. “Then I might just call this week a bad deal and go home.”

“Oh boy. Okay, one thing at a time. If we don’t want to go to the hotel restaurant and you’re afraid to meet up with this person anywhere, I see two choices.”

With her arms wrapped tightly around herself, she stared at him hopefully.

“I can either go out and pick us up something or we can order room service.”

She blinked at him.

T
he thought of
pizza made her mouth water, but was there a place anywhere within walking distance? Was it fair to send him? No, it wasn’t, and she really didn’t give a damn right now. She needed to feel safe. But at the same time…she’d come here to push her boundaries. To get out of that safe world.

But she’d never expected to see that hateful person from her past. Someone who should have represented safety yet only brought up danger in her mind.

And sure enough, her brother’s voice rolled through her mind.
Safe is no way to live. We have to experience new things and new people, otherwise our surviving was for nothing. If we choose to live, we must choose to live well, all in. No half measures allowed.
With a big breath, she pushed out the words, “Pizza. I want pizza.”

Eyebrows raised, he replied. “Okay, pizza it is. I wonder if we can order one to be delivered here.”

“No idea.” She walked to the window. Damn it. She shouldn’t be crippled by this. With everything she had been through, she should be stronger than that. Who knew Delaney would be here? Or that he’d recognize her? It had been so long and she had changed so much.

She’d grown up.

Or thought she had.

Facing Delaney though would be facing so much more than she could handle right now. She’d come to deal with her issues. But not the one involving him. That was too big. Too painful.

It wasn’t possible.

But she might be able to do something. “Look, if we go out through the back of the hotel, I might go. We could slip out for pizza and sneak back in with no one the wiser.”

“Like children playing hooky? There are evening sessions we’re supposed to do, aren’t there?”

Paris nodded. “Every evening there is something going on with Jenna. Although many are one-on-one private sessions with her as she checks in on everyone’s progress.”

A broken, painful sound escaped. “Right now there is no progress in my corner, just a horrible backward slide.”

“And one you can change,” he said firmly. “So what if you met someone from your past? He’s in the past.”

“Obviously not if he’s here in my present too,” she muttered. “I honestly never expected to see him again.”

“That’s why the shock then?”

Nodding, her stomach growled making the decision for her, she said, “I’ll grab a sweater and we can go.”

“If you’re sure,” he said doubtfully.

With a glare at his lack of support, she retorted. “It’s now or never. I won’t have the courage to go later.”

“Now.” He waited while she grabbed her light plum cardigan from the bed and walked out in front of him. “I need my jacket in case of rain again.”

She followed him to his room, standing in the doorway while he picked up his jacket from the back of his chair. It was the same layout as hers.

With the hallway still empty but worried she couldn’t get out before that changed, she said, “It’s clear. Let’s go.”

They walked quickly to the elevator and as he was going to push the button, she shook her head. “We’ll take the stairs.”

*