Guilt ransacks me as I remember things I don’t want to.
Crying like some fucked up idiot in front of him. Letting Real Alex out of his cage completely.
Mack’s arms holding me like he could somehow put me back together if he pressed tight enough. Timing my breath to the sound of his heartbeat.
We can’t do this, Alex.
I stare at him in the dusky light of his bedroom, curled next to me, and I know he’s right.
But fuck, I wish he was wrong.
I gently remove his arm, careful not to wake him up. He shifts and slides his arm up under my pillow, and I head down the hall to the bathroom.
“Fucking hell,” I say as I take in the mess I made. I do my business and wash my hands. My knee throbs, and I grimace as I kneel down to grab the shelf and do my best to settle the board back on its metal wall mounts, making sure it’s as straight as it can be.
I pick up jar of Q-tips and the rest of the debris loitered around the bathroom from my destruction. His razor, shaving cream, deodorant, and a candle that smells way too floral and looks like it’s never been lit.
When I’m done, I go into the bedroom, careful not to make too much noise as I grab my clothes and head into his living room. I pull on my khakis, groaning becausemy knee hurts like a bitch. Worse than it did yesterday, but I guess it serves me right. I only have myself to blame.
I pull on my shirt, just as the beginning of dawn peeks through the windows and lights up the room.
It’s a huge open-concept room, but there’s barely anything here. A worn leather couch and recliner, a wooden coffee table, and big flatscreen mounted on the wall. The kitchen doesn’t have a table, just a formica countertop island and some Shaker cabinets. The stove matches the cabinets at least, but it looks old, too.
It’s the kind of thing my mother would strike as having no value because it’s dated.
But with a fresh coat of paint or stain and the right accents, I bet it would look sharp as hell.
Candy apple red would look really good. Could probably find a sleek black acrylic countertop or maybe even fake it with some shiny contact paper.
I hear Mack shift in his bedroom, which pulls me from my thoughts, and I know I need to make my exit. The last thing I want to deal with is a morning after with Jordan Mackenzie. In my experience, they don’t end well.
So I queue up Uber and go outside. By the time I get to my car, the sun is coming up over Bella’s. I wait in my car until they open at seven and head in to grab some breakfast before I make my way to my parents’ house, hoping they’ll still be asleep. But of course, they aren’t.My mother stiffens as I come through the door, but my dad greets me.
“What the hell do you—”
“Relax. I’m just here to get my shit,” I say defensively. My knee aches. My head hurts. I’m tired.
“Alex…” My mom’s voice is soft as I push past my dad, surprised that he doesn’t push back.
I make my way to my room and grab my duffel.
I can’t stay here. I should’ve known better than to think I could in the first place.
“Don’t worry, I won’t be long,” I say as I throw my clothes into my duffel, alongside my toiletries and meds. I sling it over my shoulder, nearly knocking my father over on the way out.
“You need to apologize to your mother,” my dad snaps just as I make it into the kitchen. I stop, turning to face them. His face is pink with anger and she crosses her arms, shaking her head.
“Let him go, Arnie,” she says bitterly. “It’s not like he ever stays long, anyway.”
Something about her words cut me to the bone.
“Sorry,” I say with exhaustion as I head out through the door. Neither of them chase me or stop me. I toss my duffel into my backseat and turn on my car. The radio blasts with that stupid Fleetwood Mac song. “Everywhere.”
I change the station because I can’t stand to hear it right now. I drive to my house which feels empty as fuck.
A four-bedroom house with an enormous yard, a pool, and a wrap-around deck that I built should be full of life. But all it is anymore is a shell. It’s too big for just me. Maybe I should sell it.
I take my time showering, relishing in the hot water on my muscles.
