She gave me space.
She left.
And I let her.
What the hell was I thinking?
“I needed time,” I say out loud. But the words sound weak now. Like a flimsy excuse.
Because Sebastian’s right.
I’m not afraid of Violet.
I’m afraid of being hurt again.
Just thinking about her causes longing to curl inside my chest. I rub my hand over my chest, trying to quell the ache.
The truth is, I don’t want space.
Or distance.
Or time to think.
I just want her.
Exactly as she is.
Even if that makes no sense.
Even if it scares the hell out of me.
I shift my weight, arms crossing over my chest as I glance at her house again.
“She’s my stalker,” I mutter.
A bird squawks in the tree, like it’s agreeing with me.
“And I miss her.”
That lands differently now.
I huff out a breath. “Yeah. That’s… not normal.”
But it’s honest.
The front door opens, and she steps out.
Our eyes lock and hold.
Her face is composed. Arms crossed.
But underneath it all, I see the hurt. The pain I caused.
I push off my car, suddenly able to move.
My pulse spikes as she moves toward me.
For a moment, her composure slips, and I see everything she’s trying to hide. Her red eyes. The tension in her shoulders. The pain she keeps forcing down.
