I stand there a second too long. Long enough to wonder what would’ve happened if that door hadn’t opened. Long enough to hate myself for waiting this long to figure out what I wanted.
Then I turn and leave.
And this time—he lets me.
FIFTEEN
LOGAN
He stands there for a second.As if he might say something, and maybe he’ll stay. But then—he turns.
Leaves. Down the stairs. Each step echoing back to me. One flight. Two.
Gone.
Just like I told him to be.
I stand frozen, every muscle in my body screaming with the urge to go after him. Drag him back. Saysomethingthat doesn’t sound like a breakup line in a drama I swore I’d never be dumb enough to live out.
Instead, I slam my fist into the concrete wall. It hurts like hell. Skin splits open. My knuckles throb.
Good.
I bite down on the pain and breathe through my nose, letting it anchor me. Even though nothing about me feels solid anymore. I’m such a fucking idiot. I told him to go—and he actually listened.
I should be relieved. Should be grateful he didn’t press,didn’t make me explain why I’m scared out of my damn mind to want someone like him.
But all I feel is that hollow punch in my chest, like I just lost something I never really had.
I exhale hard, shaking out my sore hand, then shove out of the stairwell and head down the hall to my apartment.
When I open the door, Sara’s still on the couch, curled up in her usual spot with a bowl of popcorn and some cooking show playing, which she mutes the second she sees me.
Her eyes flick from my face to my shirtless chest, then to my bleeding knuckles. “Shit. What happened to you?”
I wave it off, heading for the kitchen. “Wall was in my way.”
She raises a brow but doesn’t press yet. Just watches me grab a paper towel, wet it down, and wrap my hand. “So… not a great time for charger delivery, huh?”
I almost smile, despite everything. “You’ve got impeccable timing, as always.”
She tilts her head. “That the guy?”
I don’t answer, and that’s enough of one.
She sighs and tosses a few kernels into her mouth. “If you wanna talk about it?—”
“I don’t,” I say quietly, grabbing a water bottle and leaning against the counter like my body might hold itself together if I stay still long enough.
She nods like she gets it, like she’s been here before. “Alright. Want me to head out?”
“No,” I say immediately, then softer, “No. You’re here. Let’s catch up. I could use something…normal.”
Sara nods, switching the TV back to full volume like nothing just cracked wide open in my chest.
But she doesn’t ask anything else. And I don’t offer. Because I still don’t know what to say about Todd.
Except maybe that I wanted him to stay.
