Because the truth is—I didn’t just sleep with him.
I fell right back into him.
Like no time had passed.
Like I hadn’t spent three years building walls just to keep from breaking over him again.
“Stupid,” I mutter under my breath, staring out the window as the landscape rolls by in wide, open stretches of South Dakota.
Flat land. Big sky. Endless horizon.
Beautiful.
Lonely.
And right now?
A perfect reflection of the mess inside my head.
Because I should be mad.
I should be furious.
At him.
At everything that happened.
At the fact that he believed Paul over me.
At the fact that he just let me walk away.
But I’m not.
Not really.
And that might be the most frustrating part of all.
Because I get it.
I hate that I get it—but I do.
Paul didn’t just lie to me.
He lied to Benji.
To his best friend.
To the man who trusted him with everything.
And Benji?
He loved him.
I saw it.
The friendship they had.
The way they were together.
