"Is everything okay?" I asked, my voice softer now, the weight of my assumption settling heavily on my shoulders.
He sighed, shrugging his tense shoulders as he stared at me with disappointment. “Yeah.”
I could tell that was only half the truth. He studied me for a long moment, then shut his mouth, his walls slamming back into place.
Look who’s closing up now.
I did that to him. I sat up, reaching for his hand, desperate to feel the warm connection between us. He let me take it, but his gaze was cooler now. Guarded.
“I come with baggage," I admitted, my voice uneven. "It’s part of the deal. And I’m sorry I assumed you regretted last night and were sneaking out. That was my mistake.”
He held my gaze for a beat, his shoulders still tight, still braced. Then he ran a hand through his hair, something he did when he was upset. “I don’t say things I don’t mean."
I exhaled, my stomach still a mess of knots and tangled emotions.
He pulled his hand away, wiping his palm over his forehead, the frustration still evident in his posture.
"Enjoy yourself in the room as long as you’d like," he said, already taking a step toward the door. "Order brunch on me, since I have to cancel."
"Are you sure I can’t do anything to help?"
His hand hovered on the doorknob but he didn’t turn around to face me. “Trust me.” His voice was low, rough. “You resting here and eating would help a shit ton.”
And then he was gone.
The door clicked shut, and I was left sitting in the empty bed, staring at the space he used to fill. Feeling like the biggest fucking asshole on the planet.
And with a burning need to fix it.
Somehow.
16
Brooks
Logan metme at the entrance to the home with a grim look on his face.
He didn’t mention the fact that I was still wearing my suit from the wedding, my tie long gone, the top buttons of my shirt undone like I had rushed here the second I got the call.
And he was right not to bring it up. Because none of that mattered.
Nothing mattered except Mom.
“Thank you for being here, Lo.”
His gaze flicked to me, softening just slightly. “You don’t thank family.”
I swallowed. Right. But I still meant it.
“She’ll be fine,” he added. “But still, it startled me.”
Startled.
That was an understatement.
I nodded tightly, shoving my hands in my pockets as we passed other residents, some of them smiling, waving, others sitting by their doors, their eyes vacant, lost in a different decade.
I forced a small smile, but inside, I was drowning.
