I’m an idiot; I know.
I didn't even give him the decency of saying it to his face. I just woke up with a pounding head, shame crawling up my spine, and instead of fixing it, I ran. I shoved a few clothes into a bag with the letters from my dad, grabbed Sassy, and went straight to Quinn's.
Like a coward.
I told myself I just needed the space without him looking at me like I’m worth fighting for. Am I? I don't even know if I am anymore.
But the truth is, I was scared.
Scared that if he touched me, I’d forget everything Rose said. Scared that if he looked at me with those pretty blue eyes, I would fold. So instead of risking it, I left him a message.
A message.
Not even a proper goodbye or explanation. Just stupid words on a stupid screen.
And I haven't seen him since.
Every day that has passed makes it worse to the point that I feel sick with guilt. More so because he's given me the space I asked for, even if it's killing him. And the worst part is it's killing me too.
It hasn't stopped him from messaging me every morning and night, making sure I’m okay and when I’m coming back. I don't message back, though.
I’m so angry at myself. Why can't I just get over myself and see him?
He doesn't deserve this.
Yes, he should have told me about the drugs. About all of it. I won't pretend that it didn't hurt. But I believe him when he says he was going to tell me, just in his own time. Rose had no right to out him like that.
Hearing her admit when the affair happened and the reasoning why it did sting. It felt like someone had poured gasoline onto an open wound. But the thing is, I already knew. Not the details, but I knew enough. I knew their history was messy, and Elijah wasn't innocent in it all.
I still fell for him anyway.
I don't regret that. Not for a second.
What I regret is letting her get inside my head again. Letting her twist something good into something rotten. She has this way of planting doubt and then standing back while it grows.
And I let her.
Now my feelings are all tangled in one complicated ball. My grief. My anger. My feelings for Elijah and my loyalty to my Dad. It's all knotted together, and I don't know which thread to pull without unravelling the whole thing.
It's a damn mess.
“Okay, babe, I love you,” Quinn says, flopping dramatically onto the bed. “But you need to go back home.”
The mattress dips hard enough to make Sassy grumble, her tail flicking in protest as she curls tighter against my side.
I glance at Quinn. “Bored with me already?”
She snorts. “Please, you're my favourite person. But you've been moping in my bed for a week.”
I look back down at the envelopes in my hands, running my thumb over the edges again. I still haven't had the guts to open them.
There's one for my birthday among other events he wanted to be there for, but there's one that throws me the most.
Elijah's letter.
My dad never really spoke about Elijah, so it's confusing why he would write him a letter.
“He misses you.”
