When I pull up, the front door’s propped open, and I see Lena hauling something outside.
I scramble out to help her. I don’t realize I’m pulling a suitcase from her hands until I look down.
A very heavy packed suitcase.
What the hell?
I meet her eyes for a second before she ducks down and looks away.
“Leaving town?” I ask carefully.
“A trip with a friend. Just a few days to clear my head.” No elaboration. She just wrenches the suitcase from my hand.
I’m so stunned I let it go.
There’s no denying it now. The damage is so intense she can barely look me in the eye. Hell, if she knew what I’m up to, she might spit in my face.
I don’t know what the fuck to do so I trail along like some sad kicked puppy as she takes it to her car and lays it in the trunk.
“What trip, Lena? What friend?” I definitely don’t sound like a puppy. More like I’m gargling glass. I catch myself and shake my head. “Will you tell me what’s going on?”
She looks at me, her big brown eyes turned to desert.
There’s no light, no love, no hope.
“Is that part of the contract too? I have to ask permission to leave the city?” She slams the trunk shut and sighs. “Brady, look, I need time to process. We’ll talk when I get back.”
“We can’t now?” I try to keep the thorns from my voice without success. “Sass, is it that fucking bad?”
Her eyes heat, guarded and sad.
“Yes. I have so much to deal with.” Her lips tremble.
“I know.” And I step in front of her. Years of growing up in the spotlight kick in when my own reason doesn’t—but we can’t have a scene in a busy neighborhood, right here in her driveway. “Can we just sit down for a minute? Five minutes, then I’ll buzz off.”
She glances longingly at the car, but then she nods and leads the way back to her open front door, waiting for me.
Thank God.
I shut it behind me, and once we’re inside, I glance around.
Her normally small yet orderly environment looks like it’s been through an earthquake.
Stray clothes everywhere, tossed over chairs and piled on the floor, like she’s just done her laundry and decided to stuff everything clean into a suitcase.
“What’s the rush?” I say. “Shit, are you that desperate to get away from me?”
“I have a flight to catch.” She folds her arms. “If you’re going to try to talk me out of going, don’t.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” I bite off. “I just want to know what’s going on with you. The truth, not excuses to shut me up.”
“The truth.” She repeats that word like a curse.
Then she shakes her head, her cheeks flaring and her eyes swimming with agony.
Goddamn, I hate this.
She’s a candle with its wick burned down, her usual fire leaving her wilted. My gut clenches. I already know that whatever she’s got has to be bad.
