She swallowed hard. “I hated doing that.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, right.”
“Grayson,” she tried again, taking a step closer to him. Her heart literally shattered when he matched that step, taking an even bigger one away from her.
“You’ve had three chances to tell me the truth since the festival.”
His words felt like a physical blow. “I know.”
“You could’ve come clean anytime,” he continued, his voice rough. The disappointment in his eyes hurt even more than the anger. “But you chose to keep lying. You know what happened between us at that festival, yet you let me believe that kiss we shared was with Lark. You acted like I was a fucking stranger the first time I came in here. Even after that weekend.”
Wren wanted to say something, but her throat was clogged, closed tight, so the silence stretched between them, heavy and painful.
She had kept up the pretense, thinking she was protecting Lark and her job, but as she stood here, she couldn’t help but wonder if she’d remained silent because she was actually protecting herself.
Perhaps she’d been fooling herself, thinking she’d turned a corner and finally left the past behind. Grayson was the first man she’d ever let herself get close to—not just physically, but emotionally as well—and admittedly, that had freaked her out.
So had she continued the lie as a way to hold him at arm’s length? Had she been attempting to self-sabotage this thing between them because her fear was still winning?
She hadn’t considered those things until this moment, but now, they felt like hard truths that were impossible to ignore.
If that had been her goal, then…job well fucking done.
“I’m sorry,” she repeated, the words sounding pathetic and worthless.
Grayson stared at her for a long moment. Then he shook his head, making it clear her apology was not accepted.
Wren felt something crack inside her. “Grayson,” she began again, but he’d already turned away.
He paused when he reached the end of the aisle, and for one hopeful second, she thought maybe he was coming back, that he’d listen and understand, accept?—
“Take care of yourself, Wren.”
Then he walked away. And just like that, he was gone.
The front door to the library opened and shut in the distance, as she remained frozen between the rows of books, staring at…nothing.
She tried not to fall apart.
She failed.
Forty-five minutes later, she climbed the steps to her apartment. Unlocking the door, she walked inside, closing it behind her. Ordinarily, she loved her walk home from work, enjoyed the leisurely stroll in the fresh air, soaking up the last rays of the day’s sun before it set.
Occasionally, she’d run into people she knew and would stop to chat. Growing up in a small town had its advantages. Like knowing practically everyone. Of course, that could probably be considered a disadvantage too.
Today, she’d hustled home, keeping her head down so that no one could see that she’d just spent the last half hour crying her heart out in the stacks of the library.
Mercifully, she didn’t run into anyone.
Gathering herself together, she did what she should have done the second Grayson left the library but hadn’t been able to.
She called Lark.
She needed to warn her sister that he’d figured it out, let her know that there was a very good chance—given his anger—that she could be fired.
Unfortunately, this call hadn’t been possible in the library because Wren couldn’t pull herself together. If she cried when she told Lark the news, her sister would realize Wren hadn’t been completely forthright about everything that had happened at the festival.
The last thing Wren wanted to do was confess about the kiss now, because…
