“Phern—” His voice cracks a little, and I can feel him reaching, like maybe this time he’ll try.
But it’s too late.
“I won’t be at the market because I’ll be in Vegas.”
That stuns him. He goes still, the words hanging between us like smoke. I see it then. The shift. The realization of what I mean.
“Phern,” he says, strained.
“Don’t worry, Will.” I smile, sweet as sin. “I’ll be sure to use protection.”
His jaw clenches and I don’t wait for a response.
I turn. And I walk away. Because this time, I don’t owe him a damn thing.
The second I get away from Will, I head for the exit. I don’t stop to say goodbye. Don’t glance back. Don’t give anyone the chance to catch my expression and ask what’s wrong.
I just walk.
I go right out the side door of Flowers End, into the night air that’s warm and thick with the scent of honeysuckle and spilled whiskey. My boots click across the gravel as I cut through theback lot and make it across the street, toward the dark line of trees that leads to Knot and Spur.
The bouquet’s still clutched in my hand. I don’t even realize I’m squeezing it tight enough to snap the stems.
I make it as far as the sidewalk when I hear footsteps.
Fast. Angry.
“Phern!”
I keep walking.
“Don’t,” I snap over my shoulder. “Just let me go.”
“Not happening.”
The next second hits me in a blur. I turn to tell him off, to unleash all the fury bubbling in my throat and instead, I get hauled. Will throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing. Like I didn’t just shatter him five minutes ago.
“What the hell?!” I yell, pounding on his back. “Put me down!”
“Gladly. Once you stop acting like Vegas is some kind of answer.”
He strides toward my apartment, going up the stairs, still carrying me.
“Will, I swear to God?—”
“No, you don’t get to swear at me. Not after everything. Not after that.”
He whips out a key from his pocket that unlocks my door.
“How do you have a key for my apartment?”
“Sam gave it to me,” he says, strolling in.
He sets me down hard on my feet, but doesn’t let go, kicking the door closed with his boot. His hands stay on my arms, eyes boring into mine.
“You think running off to Vegas is going to fix the hole in your chest?” he growls. “That some drink and a cheap hotel kiss is gonna make you forget what we were?”
“What we were?” I laugh, bitter and broken. “Will, we were nothing. You made sure of that.”
