But then he spoke.
“Mitch, hey, you awake?”
I clenched my jaw, forcing my voice to stay level.
"Yes." It came out tight, clipped.
I didn’t open my eyes, didn’t move, but I felt him scoot closer. Felt his hand slide up, his palm warm as he cupped my face.
My eyes snapped open, and when I finally looked at him, my breath stuttered.
His expression wasn’t cold. It wasn’t distant, or detached, or regretful.
It was tight, pained.
Like this was hurting him, too and I didn’t know what to do with that.
“Are you okay?” he murmured, his brows pulling together. “I tried not to wake you when I got ready.”
Why was his voice so soft?
Why did he sound like he cares?
I fought the whirl of emotions, the conflicting reactions fighting for control.
"Fine, yeah." I forced the words out, but they felt wrong.
Like I was already losing something I wasn’t ready to let go of.
His eyes searched mine, and I saw the exact moment my words hit him wrong. His jaw tightened, his fingers flexing on my face before he pulled back.
“Look, go ahead and leave,” I said, forcing myself to sound detached, unbothered. “It’s okay.”
The second the words left my lips, his expression shifted completely. Like I had just punched him in the gut.
"Leave?" His brows dropped, his tone sharper now. “Jesus, Michelle.”
He stood up, running a frustrated hand through his hair, shaking his head.
“I’m not leaving you.” His voice came rougher now, tinged with something that sounded a lot like hurt. “This isn’t me sneaking out. Something came up with my family.”
I blinked, my pulse tripping over itself.
“It’s a natural assumption,” I said quietly, hating how small I sounded.
He let out a low, incredulous laugh, his hands clenching at his sides. "Don’t make me into someone I’m not," he muttered, his voice edged with irritation. “Damn it.”
My stomach sank. Something came up with his family. It’s not an excuse.
But if I had just let myself believe for two goddamn seconds that he wasn’t like everyone else, I wouldn’t have jumped straight to the worst-case scenario.
I had ruined this moment before it could even be anything else.
"I need to help my mom," he continued, his voice still laced with frustration. "I have to go. It’s not an excuse, and if you gave me the chance, I would’ve explained that to you and asked if I could come over when you have free time. Today, tomorrow, whenever."
I’m the asshole now. The regret hit me like a freight train.
I had done to him what I had feared he was doing to me.
