“Good morning, Sydney. Do you need anything from me right away?” Tessa pops her head in to my office as I glance from my computer screen to her.
“Nope. Just get started on that paperwork I told you about yesterday and let me know when Mr. Nickson comes in for his meeting.”
“Sounds good.”
I ask her to close the door to my office so I can get work done in peace in the meantime, and then the day flies by in a blur. When my eyes find the clock and I see it’s already after five, I sink into a panic not wanting to be late for my self-defense class.
I launch my body up from my chair and reach for my purse, side-stepping my desk just as Byron, my boss, slides right into my office, blocking me in.
“Hey, Byron. I was just on my way out.” I hope he can sense the urgency in my voice because I really don’t want to be late.
For my class. Not to ogle the instructor for a good ten minutes before the class ever begins.
Nope. That’s not it.
“I’m glad I caught you, Sydney. We have another custody case consult that came through today, but everyone is already full and doesn’t want to take it on. Do you have any room on your caseload?”
I know I should say no because the longer I pick up the slack around here, the more I’m going to be expected to do it. Although I did just close a case out yesterday.
But that’s beside the point. This is about standing up for yourself, Sydney. This is about being taken seriously.
“You know I wouldn’t ask unless we were in a pickle. And I know I can count on you to be a team player. Your dad would be so proud of how hard you work for this firm.”
Damn you, Byron—using my father’s approval to get your way. I revert back to bad habits in the blink of an eye.
I relent with a sigh as I bring my purse up further on my shoulder. “Yeah, I suppose I can. Give Tessa the client folder and I’ll glance over it tomorrow.”
Byron’s hand finds my upper arm as he gives it a tight, reassuring squeeze. “Thanks, Sydney. I know you’ll never say no to me.” He winks and then hobbles back down the hallway as I stand there, slack-jawed and fuming.
When I slide into the seat of my car and fire up the engine, I have to remind myself there is a speed limit on the roads as I race across town, my adrenaline fueling my car more than the gasoline in the tank.
“I know you’ll never say no to me.”
It’s like every instance in my life where I’ve said yes to avoid being a disappointment filters through my mind with that one simple statement by my boss.
I’m a pushover. I always have been. And just when I finally felt like I was finding my voice, I retreated and was slapped in the face by what everyone has always thought of me.
I’ve avoided conflict because I wasn’t allowed to stir it up. I’ve smiled and did what was asked of me because that’s what was expected from the poised Sydney Matthews. I bit my tongue in instances when I thought something was unfair because heaven forbid I should have an opinion of my own that differed from the ones of my family.
And apparently people in my life have seen it and used it to their advantage—and I’ve let them.
By the time I arrive at the gym, I’m so angry I slam my door closed on my car so hard that it echoes throughout the parking lot and with my gym bag in hand, pull open the door of the gym with such force that it slams into the wall outside. I stomp inside, heading right for the locker room, not bothering to acknowledge anyone around me.
I’m fuming mad—at Byron, at my mom and dad, at myself. How did I end up in this position in my life?
As I strip my clothes from my body and glance down at the outfit I packed, I remember that earlier this morning when the buzz of anticipation of seeing Javi was coursing through my veins I thought this little number would have him clenching his jaw real tight tonight. But now that nothing but fury is running through me, I don’t feel like flirting anymore.
The tight red sports bra and shorts combo I packed was with the intention to tease Javier a little bit, hoping to get a rise out of him again. Why I felt the need to poke the bear is still something I’m having trouble processing, but now my resolve has crumbled.
I feel lost and sad, berating myself for not having the courage to speak up for myself yet again.
Knowing I can’t hide in the locker room forever and having no other options for attire, I put on the skimpy outfit, pull my hair in a high ponytail, and check my appearance in the mirror.
Even though I feel like shit on the inside, at least I feel confident in my appearance on the outside.
By the time I make it to the mat, the other five girls are there, but there’s no sign of Javi yet. When I take a seat, I stare down at my hands in my lap, tearing at my cuticles while anger still runs through me and the sting of tears threatens to make me crumble in front of these people.
But I can’t. I just need to focus on why I’m here and take out my aggression on the punching bags later.
A throat clearing behind me causes my head to turn as I see a hesitant Javier
