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Warm fingers grazed the small of my back, a gentle nudge toward the door. My feet remained cemented to the spot.
“Adrien and Ria.” Anthony.
You could hear a pin drop. For what felt like three full karmic lifetimes, no one said a word.
Josh’s disbelieving gaze slid an inch to my left. “You’re joking.”
He was ignored.
Adrien’s full hand was now splayed across the dip of my back. He leaned down to my ear, whispered, “You’re okay. Come on.”
I didn’t know how his voice managed to reconnect the wiring between my brain and my legs, but it did. I took one stiff step forward, then another.
Adrien said something to the table, but I was already inside the house, and the door had already clattered closed behind me.
My muscles loosened, built momentum. I ran up the stairs.
Fuck the clothes. Just grab the suitcase and get the fuck out of here.
But my blood was roaring too loudly in my ears by the time I reached the bedroom, and I had to squat down, put my head between my knees. It felt like I’d been sucker-punched in the gut.
“Makes you think, eh?”
Acid boiled in my stomach, pain stabbed at my throat, behind my eyes. I was going to throw up.
“Hey.”
I bolted upright. Bad idea. My head spun, my vision darkened, stars spotted Adrien’s pinched features, and gravity tilted. I stumbled back a few steps and almost tumbled to the floor when my foot snagged the edge of my suitcase.
He caught me before I could crash, one arm linked around my waist, the other braced on the wall to steady us.
“Jesus,” he breathed. An indent of feigned concern etched itself between his dark brows as he studied me.
Like he actually fucking cared.
Like this wasn’texactlywhat he’d wanted.
“Let me go,” I ordered.
“Sanchez, you’re white as—”
“Let me go!” I shoved at his hard chest with my forearms, my back slumping against the wall when he reluctantly released me.
I gripped my knees as a bead of sweat slipped down the nape of my neck. I’d had nightmares sweeter than this. My subconscious’s imagination had nothing on Adrien Cloutier’s scheming capabilities. He should have been proud.
He stood two feet away, his fingers twitching in and out of fists like they weren’t sure what to do with themselves.
I straightened. Looked him in the eyes.
“Does this feel good to you?” I asked through the hot coals churning in my throat. I didn’t try to hide it. He deserved to see exactly how much damage he’d done. “You wanted to break me, right? Does it feel good?”
He had the audacity to stand there and look miserable instead of owning up to it.
My breathing slowed, my muscles regaining some of their strength as the hollowness in my chest spread, a familiar numbness taking over.
The back of my head hit the wall.
“You still wanna know why I didn’t go to college?” I asked him. At this point, he deserved to hear the story. Just so he could sleep better at night, knowing how deep he’d cut me with this one. The man had earned it. “Based on the questions you’ve been asking, I’m assuming Josh’s version of our breakup had a few major holes in it, so let me enlighten you.”
