In his silence, I fill in the blanks myself. That he mistook my kindness for something it never was. That he thought Pandora’s posts about my rocky marriage meant there was room for him to slip in.
But he was wrong.
Deadfucking wrong.
His expression straightens as his gaze lowers to the ground. “Should I assume you don’t want me to come back?”
I place my hand over my lips, shaking from head to toe.
“I don’t know, Seth. Just… go.”
He lingers a few seconds, staring like he wants to apologize a hundred more times, but he does us both a favor and leaves.
The second the door closes behind him, I take a breath, completely shocked by what just happened. When I left the diner to clear my head, to find peace… this was far from what I had in mind.
Chapter Twenty-Five
West
It’s late, but I’m up. On the couch, staring at the ceiling like usual.
I keep going over tonight. Not even the part where April and Reed got exposed. My only concern is Blue. We actually sat and talked. It was nice to just be in her space without having any sort of misunderstanding.
Yeah, I wish she’d stayed, wish she had let the night flow naturally like it was starting to, but I’m grateful for what little time I got.
I flip onto my side and reach for the remote, but before I click the power button, the doorbell has me snapping a look toward the front entryway. I’m on my feet the next second, fighting the feeling in my gut that something’s wrong. People don’t show up at your door in the middle of the night if everything’s fine.
I pull the door open without looking through the peephole. And when I find Blue staring back at me, light rain plopping down onto her hair and shoulders, my heart sinks.
Especially with that distraught look on her face.
“Can I come in?” she says.
Hearing her ask to enterher own home…it’s jarring.
“Are you serious?” I feel the scowl on my face as I step aside.
How the hell did we even get to a point where she’d even have to ask that?
Blue steps in and ignores my question because she’s clearly someplace else. Her eyes are distant, like she’s functioning on autopilot, disconnected. I don’t miss how her hands are shaking either. And why the hell is there paint all over her clothes?
The lack of answers makes my nerves even more on edge.
“What happened?”
She doesn’t answer right away, and it drives me crazy guessing what this could be about.
“Can we sit?” she asks.
I nod, and she follows me into the living room and drops down on the sofa. I wish I’d thought to hide my pillow and blanket first, but it is what it is. I probably look fucking pathetic, like I can’t cope without her, but the worst part is that both these things are true.
It’s too late to worry about the state of the room—a fast food bag tossed to the coffee table, empty water bottles on the end table, a t-shirt on the floor.
I drop down on the sofa, leaving a cushion between us in case she prefers the space.
“What is it?”
“Well… you said to tell you if something else happened. I promised I would, and…”
