He texted me sometimes. He didn’t even have anything he wanted from me or needed to say. I rarely replied.
Matthew
That isn’t dinner.
I rolled my eyes and tucked my phone back into the gap between my bent legs and the leather armchair. Then I went back to watching the lights.
I zoned out, letting time pass with little awareness. I might have been sitting there minutes or hours—it was difficult to tell—when I heard the elevator ding in the living room.
I had no doubt it was Matthew. He’d probably ordered enough food for a small family when I’d refused to respond to him further.
With a sigh, I collected Aurelia and took her back to her tank. Then I pulled the blanket tight around my shoulders and went to confront Matthew.
Only it wasn’t Matthew who was standing there, in my kitchen, with a box of strawberry tea in his hand and deep brown eyes that examined the room before coming to land on me.
My body burned and froze in the same moment. Was I dreaming? I had to be. How else would Benny be standing in my apartment?
The blanket slipped from my shoulders to pool at my feet.
Heat fought its way up my chest, my throat, settled behind my eyes. Threatening to spill. I held it back. It took every ounce of willpower and energy, but I wouldn’t let myself break again, not if he were truly here to see it.
We both stared.
The box of tea dropped to the marble floor and Benny made his way over to me in the space of a few heartbeats.
I had to put my shields up. I had to guard myself.
A warm hand cupped my cheek. Wet brown eyes took me in.
“What’s happened to you?”
His voice was a balm to my soul.
My walls fell to join the blanket at my feet.
He saw me. The rotten, ugly, sick thing I’d become. He could see it.
I didn’twanthim to see it. I didn’t want him to touch me and taint himself.
I stepped backward. He followed. Again. He refused to let me out of arm’s reach. I retreated until my back touched the wall and he stood in front of me, blocking any further weak attempts at escape.
“Go away,” I whispered.
He shook his head. “No. Not this time.”
“I don’t want you here.” The lie absorbed more of the little strength I had remaining, and without it I could no longer hold back the tears.
Warm thumbs gently smoothed them away. “You’re lyin’.”
I shook my head. I had to protect him from me. Even if his presence here had ripped the scabs from the wounds that losing him once had left on me.
He nodded. “You are. Just like you were when you ran off last time. I should have chased after you.”
What would my life look like now if he’d chased after me that day? What if I hadn’t tried to run in the first place?
I shook my head again.
“I won’t let you go again.”
