Not even close.
This is the most uncalm I’ve ever felt.
He stares at me, chest heaving, jaw tight. The veins in his arms distend as he clenches his fists at his sides.
I take a shaky step back. Then another.
Alex doesn’t move to stop me. He just watches, his expression dark and unreadable.
The air feels smothering. Every breath tastes like lemon butter and doubt.
I grab my purse off the hook, my fingers fumbling with the strap. My body screams at me to say something, to fix this before it spirals further. But I don’t know how to fix it. All I can do is replay Chase’s words like a scratchy old record.
You can have both. Maybe just not with him.
“Where are you going?” he demands, low and controlled.
“I told you. I need space.”
“Space. Right.” He paces a few steps before snapping his head toward me. “You don’t get to tell me you’re leaving like it’s some casual fucking announcement over dinner.”
“I don’t want to fight.”
“Then don’t start one!” He gestures wildly between us. “Jesus, I’ve given you everything. And you’re seriously walking out? Like that’s going to suddenly give you direction, bring all your bright-eyed dreams to fruition?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“Bullshit. You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re bailing.” His nostrils flare. “That’s what you do when things get hard.”
“Stop.”
“I wake up every damn day, working my ass off, making sure we have a life, a home, a future. I stuck by you when you had nothing. And now, because you’resad, you want to run.”
“I’m not running!” My pulse hammers, the room narrowing on all sides. “I’ve stayed. Longer than most people would have.”
His face hardens like I just struck him.
Silence stretches between us, thick and fragile.
I reach for the handle.
“Annalise.”
I freeze, fingers curled around the doorknob.
His tone softens, barely above a whisper. “You’ll come back.”
It’s not a question. It’s a promise, a warning, a hook lodged under my skin, tugging me back toward him.
But I close my eyes. Breathe. Swallow down the remorse, the indecision, the seesaw of conflicting emotions climbing up my throat.
Then I twist the knob and step outside.
***
Calling him was stupid. I know that.
But Tag didn’t pick up, Kenna’s stuck on the closing shift, and my parents are busy chasing their live-off-the-land fantasy in Georgia, turning their retirement into a micro-farm experiment.
