With a sigh, Korbin flipped the hood from his head, shaking his body as tiny droplets of water spattered from his clothes and skin. The stubble on his face was thicker now, and the dark circles under his eyes told me that he was sleeping just about as well as I was, which was barely at all. On the counter top was the bag he brought—takeout from my favorite Mexican place in Eagle River.
“Peyton,” he said, and I didn’t even have the urge to scold him for using that stupid nickname. “Can we talk?”
I almost said no, almost turned him towards the door and went back to the couch to wallow. I wanted to; God, I wanted to, mostly because I was tired of the games. I didn’t always want to be the one to forgive and forget, and that’s all this relationship was based on. Me forgiving and forgetting, and Korbin hurting me all over again, over and over, until there would be nothing left.
Then again, he had food. I didn’t want to cook, and I was starving. The fact that he’d just saved me from a potential rape situation didn’t go unnoticed, either.
The strange sensation I felt that someone had been in my house was creeping up, as well.
“You can stay for a second,” I said, double checking the locks on the front door. “How did you get my address?”
“Lucky guess,” teased Korbin, and I rolled my eyes.
“It was my mother, wasn’t it?”
“No. I tried Susan, but to no avail.”
Korbin turned to open the bag of takeout before shoving his hands into the pocket of his jeans almost sheepishly. “I know there are a hundred Mexican food places just on this side of the city, but I also know that this place is your favorite.”
“Yeah, well, I’m hungry,” I mumbled. “I’ll eat anything at this point.” Without waiting for him to answer, I dug into the bag and pulled out the food, spreading it out on the counter before going to the kitchen drawer for forks. I handed Korbin one and then sat down on the kitchen stool and dug in, unable to meet and hold his gaze for long. I hated myself for letting him stay, for opening the door to my heart and laying it all out there again, vulnerable and pathetic. Korbin watched me eat, his own food untouched as he simply stared at me from across the table.
“Peyton,” he said finally, and I tore my focus away from the noodles to meet his eyes.
“What, Korbin?”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I asked, although the answer was clear and we both knew it.
“For everything.”
I sighed and dropped my fork, feeling nauseous suddenly like if I kept on eating I would just vomit it all up. A migraine pulled at my temples. I closed my eyes and rested my head in my hands, supporting my elbows on the table.
“Were you the one who was in my house?” I asked him. “Did you leave muddy footprints by the door?”
“What are you talking about, Peyton?”
I shook my head as a shiver crawled up my spine. I knew better than to suspect Korbin; surprising my mother with dinner in her own house was one thing, but breaking into mine was completely different, and we both knew that.
“Never mind,” I said with a shrug. “It’s nothing.”
“Did someone break in?”
“No, Korbin. It was probably my roommate.”
“Was it that asshole Jake?”
“I don’t think so.”
Falling silent for a moment, Korbin watched me over the table top, looking like he was trying to decide between arguing with me or letting it go. He chose the latter, aiming instead for the second conversation I didn’t want to be having.
“Peyton,” he said. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve done to you.”
“I guess I can’t blame you entirely,” I murmured. “I knew who you were before I came home. It was selfish of me to think that somehow things had changed.”
Korbin looked struck by this, and he dropped my gaze for a moment to stare down at his hands folded on the table instead. “I deserved that,” he said softly. “I know I did.”
I focused once more on my food, feeling the tears press against my eyelids and threaten to spill. I didn’t want to cry, especially in front of Korbin, but I could feel it coming.
