“Not to mention.” Fallon continues. “You’re literally never home anymore. Haven’t you noticed you spend almost every day with him now?”
I open my mouth to deny it, but I can’t. I do spendmost of my days with him now. It’s never planned. It just happens.
Echo shows up at the bookstore with coffee. Or texts asking if I’m hungry. Or mentions he’s nearby and thought he’d stop by. And somehow, by the end of the night, we’re together. Talking. Or not talking. Just existing in the same space. And I don’t mind it. In fact, I kind of look forward to it.
Shit.
When did this happen?
When did I start letting him in?
When did I stop seeing him as the man from the alley and start seeing him as... this?
Fuck.
I can’t let myself get attached. Attachment leads to expectations. Expectations lead to love. Love leads to disaster. And I can’t survive another one of those.
My phone buzzes on the couch beside me. I pick it up and glance at the screen. Echo texted me.
You eat yet?
I stare at the message. Three simple words. Nothing demanding. Nothing possessive. Nothing even remotely concerning. He’s just checking in on me like he always does.
So why does it feel so suffocating?
I scroll up through our thread. Past today’s message. Past yesterday’s. Past the weeks of constant back-and-forth that I didn’t even notice piling up.
When did this become my routine?
When did he become such a big part of my world?
“I didn’t realize.” I say numbly. “It kind of just happened.”
“Stop freaking out.” Fallon says, studying my face. “Echo is a good guy, don’t overthink this.”
That’s precisely the problem. Echoisn’ta good guy. He’s a bad guy, and he’s never pretended to be anything else.
I know what he’s capable of. I’ve witnessed it firsthand, and the last thing I should be doing is catching feelings for him. If anything, I should be actively avoiding him.
Under the guise of friendship, what was happening between us felt safe, and that label made it easy for me to let my guard down. But now, I’m wondering if that was a mistake.
My phone buzzes with another incoming message, and my eyes snap to the screen. Josh texted me.
Hey, Doll. Just checking in since I haven’t heard from you. How are you?
I stare at the message and roll my eyes at the ironic timing.
Fucking awful, Josh, but thanks for asking. You haven’t heard from me partially because I’m too much of a coward to give you an explanation, and partially because I think you might love me. Which won’t work because the last person who loved me murdered my whole family. And to make matters worse, I think I’m catching feelings for someone even more dangerous than him. So yeah, I’m not doing great.
I set my phone down on the couch and press my palms against my eyes.
I’m such an asshole. I should’ve given Josh closure weeks ago. I told him I’d reach out, but every time I tried to force myself to reach out and rip the fucking band-aid off, my brain just… slid away from it. Like it was jerking back from touching a hot stove. It’s been easier to think about Echo. Safer, in a weird way, even though he’s way more dangerous.
I open Josh’s text thread and start typing.
Hey. Sorry, I’ve been MIA. Do you want to go grab coffee and talk? I’m free today.
My thumb hovers over the send button. This is stupid. I know it’s stupid. I shouldn’t text Josh back. It’s just asking for trouble. Then again, Echo doesn’t own me, and I don’t need his permission to talk to anyone. We’re just friends.
