Yeah fucking right.
“Do you even have a car?” Why am I getting so off track now. I was confident in myself that I’d get him out of this house. “It’s miles from here to town. I can’t play chauffeur.”
He waves his hand as if dismissing me, the smile still disingenuous. “All good. I’ve got money, and I’ll just order an Uber. They come out this far, right?” He laughs at himself. “Of course they do. I won’t be a bother. Promise. Now, do you want?—”
“Stop talking.” I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“—to catch up…”
I shut my eyes, wondering exactly what I’m going to do. This isn’t good.
Obviously. Why? Because my heart can’t take it.
Even after eight shitty years, I haven’t stopped thinking about him. And now he’s going to be in the same goddamn cabin with me—less than a thousand square feet around us.
I’m so fucked… or he is. Or maybe we both are. Who goddamn knows.
8
He actually hates me, which is almost impossible to digest. This isn’t the same Keoni I knew. Just like his body, his personality has changed.
Yesterday, he walked away from me again. He didn’t sit for coffee, not even in silence. No talking, no catching up. Just him completely ignoring me.
I guess I’m fine staying here—I mean, of course I am. It’s half my place. No matter how he feels, he can’t legally kick me out.
Speaking of…
“Hey, wait.” It’s noon the next day. My plan was to let him go do whatever he’s doing, but then I remember something. “You need to sign the documentation for the will.”
His shoulders rise and fall with his heavy breath. He has his back to me, and when he glances over his shoulder, his eyes look tired.
I don’t want to explain why I couldn’t come during the holidays. Truthfully, I’m a little worried about what he’ll do or say. It’s embarrassing, and his look of disdain might sting, but hisjudgment? That might hurt even more.
“Do you have the contact information?”
I fight the urge to smile—it’s ridiculous that I’m excited he actually responded.
“Yeah. I can text it to you.”
He groans, drops his duffle bag, and turns to me. Fishing through his jeans pocket, he pulls out his phone, unlocks it, and hands it to me. I take a moment to study his wallpaper; it’s a firepit, and judging by the backdrop, it’s the one outside by the lake.
Without hesitation, I enter my contact information. I’m tempted to put something silly next to my name, but I think better of it and just type it out plainly.
Handing it back, I give him a small smile.
A look of agitation crosses his face before he rolls his eyes and turns away. “I’ll see you Wednesday.”
I suck a sharp breath in. “What? But, it’s Monday.”
Without responding, he bends over and grabs the bag he put down before walking out the wooden front door.
I’ll admit, him leaving like this spikes my anxiety. After so many years of it from Michael, I was used to it—but with Keo? It hits a nerve that felt numb before now.
A soft purr draws my attention downward. Fluffy gray fur winds between my legs as Clover presses against me. Strangely, it’s very calming.
“Alright, so what’re we doing today?”
The day ended up consisting of absolutely nothing. There isn’t much food, so I had to order groceries to the house—again, quite the pretty penny.
