He swooped in and kissed my cheek. Soft, lingering. A normal girl would have blushed, maybe leaned in, maybe felt something light up inside her chest.
I felt nothing. Or maybe not nothing, but the wrong kind of ache.
He squeezed my arm. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”
I nodded, watched him jog to his car, backlit by the glow of Sabrina’s porch lamp. He waved as he pulled onto the street, taillights melting into the night.
The silence that followed swallowed everything else.
I wrapped my arms around myself, shivered, and tried to remember how to just be alone. Then, there were footsteps behind me.
His footsteps were softer than you’d expect. The night seemed to hush for him, waiting.
He didn’t say my name at first. Just hung in the doorway, breathing hard, watching the road where Alex’s car disappeared.
“He’s not good enough for you.”
I didn’t turn. “You don’t get a vote.”
He came up behind me, heat rolling off his body. “Don’t insult either of us by lying.”
I stiffened, felt the hair stand up on my arms. “What do you want, Caiden?”
He stepped around, coming to stand in front of me.
He didn’t look away. “You think you’re safe with him? That he’s—what? Better for you? Less likely to fuck things up?”
Fuck. The words twisted.
I hugged myself tighter. “I think he wants me for the right reasons.”
His laugh was quick, cruel. “That’s not love. That’s pity. Or some fantasy. It’s got nothing to do with you.”
I glared at him, every bone shivering. “And you know what does?”
He leaned in, not touching, but so close I could feel the war raging under his skin. “You want someone who sees you for who you really are. Even the bad shit. Especially that.”
The world vibrated. I was hollowed out.
“And you think you do?”
He nodded. No hesitation. “I know I do.” His jaw clenched, voice breaking and trembling in the dark. “Amelia. If I could cut it out of me, I would. You know that.”
A thousand memories detonated inside my skull: his body pressed to mine, basement floor cold and wet, his arms caging me from the world, his voice in my ear telling me we were the same kind of ruined.
I hated him for being right.
I hated myself for wanting him more when he said it.
I couldn’t look at him. I stared at the ground, at the stains on the wood, and tried to get air back into my lungs.
“You’ll ruin me,” I whispered. Honest, for once.
He shook his head, something wild in his eyes. “Already did.”
For a second, I thought he’d reach for me. For a second, I wanted him to. Maybe if he grabbed me, I’d just surrender, let myself drown in the need. Let him break me open and see what’s left.
But he only stared. The silence stretched, so full it hurt.
