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Fuck this.

I’m going after her.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Lennon

I shouldn’t have left the way I did.

I know that.

But I couldn’t just sit there, in his house, the house I helped him decorate just yesterday with my mind spiraling like it was. I just needed air.

I needed space.

But now I’m here, back in my apartment, back in the place that was supposed to be my fresh start.

And everything still feels terrible.

My chest aches and I rub at it, shaking my head as I wrestle with the memories of us over the past two weeks and what it all means now.

God, was anything that woman said true?

Was anything with Dalton true?

That’s the biggest problem.

I don’t know what the fuck to believe.

Shaking my head, I rake my hand through my hair and begin pacing across my apartment - into the kitchen and back to the living room.

Again and again.

My feet slap against the hardwood floor with each step, my thoughts racing, as one traitorous tear slips down my cheek. I swipe it away.

No.

I don’t know anything yet.

All I have is the word of some woman who randomly approached me at Dalton’s fight.

Why should I believe her?

But why the fuck would she know all those things about him?

My thoughts turn to the fight, the way he came straight to me after he won, the crowd parting for him, and the way he kissed me without a second thought.

He claimed me.

But am I the first?

How many other women did he find in the crowd after the fight and kiss like that?

Because it won’t be long before you’re me, watching him make out with the next girl in the crowd and remembering what it was like to be in her position.

Fuck.

I focus on the sound of my feet on the floor.