“Like you’ve been crying.”
Blair looks at me for a long time, her eyes searching mine.
I hold her gaze, refusing to look away from her.
You can tell me anything,I want to say.
“Today is a…hard day for me,” she says slowly. “I lost some people I cared about on this day.”
Her response takes me by surprise. “I’m sorry,” I say.
She shrugs. “It was two years ago. Today, and hell, even the few weeks before the anniversary are hard. I keep to myself around that time.”
“Which is why you haven’t talked to me.”
I bite my tongue too late.
She looks away and picks at her purple nail polish. “Something like that. Yeah.”
No wonder she panicked when she met Ryland.
She’s been in pain, hurting for the people she lost, and then her scent match walks into her place of work.
“It gets bad during this month,” she adds, interrupting my train of thought. “So, when there’s any stress on top of that, I kind of shut down.”
It’s all starting to make sense, and guilt eats at me.
When would be the appropriate time to tell her that Ryland and Rowan are my roommates?
She hasn’t mentioned Ryland at all; with everything she’s been going through.
And I haven’t found the right opportunity, since up until now, she has been completely closed off.
Now, she’s opening up to me, and I realize how fucked up this whole situation is.
I’m roommates with her scent match, and potentially another one, and I haven’t told her.
Fuck.
“I like talking to you,” I mutter. “I’m always happy to lend an ear, if you need it.”
“Yeah,” she sighs. “I appreciate it.”
But I know as soon as we walk back out into the bar area, she’ll be back to how she was.
Closed off and shut down.
I want to make the moment last with her as long as possible, even though it’s selfish.
I could tell her about the kittens we’re fostering without mentioning Ryland or Rowan.
I could at least show her pictures.
But then, she’s crossing the room to her purse and fishing for something.
“This one is silver glitter with pawprints on it,” she says, placing the bandage on the table. “Sorry I don’t have something more your style.”
“Who says sparkles aren’t my style?” I ask, stone-faced.
