He climbed out and moved to her side to help her out. As they walked to her door, he kept a hand on the small of her back, letting her warmth slip into him, crawl up his arm, and heat his blood.
When the front door was open, she stepped inside and turned. “Well, thanks for walking me in.”
“I don’t want space.” The words fell from his mouth, heavy but true.
She tilted her head, resolve in her eyes. “You don’t want me in the same way that I want you. SoIneed space to move on.”
More fucking kicks to his gut, these ones harder and more precise.
“I need…” She looked at the sky behind him, as if searching for the right words. “I need to breathe without you being on my mind. I need to find my person without comparing every man I meet toyou.”
“I don’t want to lose you.” It was unfair of him. He knew it was unfair. He was a selfish prick. She deserved to be with someone who could give themselves to her without hesitation. But the idea of her going out and finding someone who wasn’t him…fuck, it hurt.
She dropped her head into her hands and scrubbed her face. “Let’s sleep on it, okay?” She didn’t give him time to respond, instead stepping back and closing the door. Cutting their connection…and making him feel fucking hollow.
CHAPTER 17
The door closed, and the house was suddenly too quiet. A heavy kind of quiet that sat on her chest, making the air feel thick and her lungs tight.
She touched her temple to the wood of the door, trying to breathe even though she wanted to cry. She’d just done exactly what she knewneededto be done. So why had it felt so wrong? Why, when she’d asked for space, had a voice in her head begged,screamed, for her to give him more time? But more time for what? To love her?
She turned, hating the tears that pressed at her eyes. Hating that even though space between her and Holden would save her heartache in the long run, right now it felt wrong and hard and painful.
She stepped into her room and took off her shirt and jeans, then eyed her pajamas. She should put them on. She didn’t. Instead, she rummaged through her bottom drawer before finding an old sweatshirt. Notherold sweatshirt—Holden’s.
There was something about it that just made her feel close to him, even when she wasn’t.
Man, she was a glutton for punishment.
She pulled the sweatshirt over her head, and it was so long it almost hit her knees.
In the kitchen, she was about to grab a bottle of water from the fridge when a cool breeze hit her legs. She turned to see the back door ajar.
She frowned. Was Scarlett out there?
Slowly, she crossed to the door and stuck her head outside.
Nothing. Well, nothing that she could see, anyway. It was dark though.
She quickly closed the door, but when she went to flick the lock, she couldn’t. The bolt wouldn’t engage. Was it broken?
All the fine hairs on her arms suddenly stood on end, and that chill on her skin intensified.
Was Scarlett home? Had she noticed something had happened to the lock on the back door?
Quickly, Clara went to Scarlett’s bedroom. She knocked and waited.
Silence.
Was Scarlett even here? She knocked again, and when there was still no answer, she quietly turned the knob and stepped inside. The light was on, and just like the other night, Scarlett was hunched over her desk.
Where was her laptop? And if she wasn’t working, why would she fall asleep on an empty desk?
Unease churned in her belly. She inched forward, her pulse quickening, each beat loud in her ears.
“Scarlett?”
Nothing. Not even the twitch of a finger. Then Clara noticed something else…
