“Wren?” Concern practically radiated from Cait. “If you’re not feeling up to it, I’ll stay. He can give me the stuff and go on his way.”
“No, it’s fine,” she managed to say, despite feeling as if her sore throat was closing up on her.
If he had some things he wanted to say to her, she wouldn’t run from him. He deserved that much after what she’d done.
Chapter Three
Grant knocked on Gavin and Cait’s door, hoping the emotions churning in his gut didn’t show on his face.
He wasn’t sure what a guy was supposed to say to a woman who’d told him she loved him, too, and later the same day, told him they were done and she never wanted to see him again.
Why? That was the obvious question, but seeing her last night had been like reopening a wound that had barely begun to heal. It was still all tenderness and ragged edges and unexpected sore spots. And last night had ripped it all wide open. Right now he wanted to throw a bandage over it and pretend it didn’t hurt.
When the door opened and Wren stepped back to let him in without really looking him in the eye, he felt as if that wound had been doused with salt water.
For a second, he was ready to toss the small duffel bag through the open door and run.
“Come in,” she said, and the raspiness in her voice made him remember the feel of her limp, unconscious body draped over his shoulder last night.
He went in, walking past her to set the bag down on the table. “You left a few things at my place. Not a lot, but I have that sweatshirt you...well, you said it was your favorite, so I thought you might want it.”
And he’d guessed right, judging by the way her face softened as he pulled it out of the bag. It was obviously old and had been washed a million times, but it was a soft pink with a big, draping neckline and a long, loose hem.
She’d liked to wear it with nothing but a pair of lace-trimmed panties while they cuddled on the couch to watch television.
He dropped it back in the bag as if it had scalded his fingers. “There’s some other random stuff, too. Nothing big, but I figured you’d want the sweatshirt.”
“Thank you for bringing it over. Cait warned me not to expect to save much, if anything, from my apartment, but I’ll have my favorite sweatshirt. Thank you for not throwing it away or tossing it in a donation bin.”
He nodded because he didn’t want to acknowledge that would have been the typical thing to do. Or that he’d tried and couldn’t bring himself to get rid of her things. Especially the sweatshirt. He hadn’t slept with it or anything, but he couldn’t throw it away.
“Do you want some coffee or something? Gavin said there’s plenty of breakfast things and to help myself.”
“No, thanks. I’m not staying.” And yet he couldn’t bring himself to move toward the door.
“Okay.”
Silence filled the apartment, heavy and awkward, until Grant blurted out, “I want to know what’s going on.”
“Grant, I...I didn’t want to hurt you. You have to believe—”
He held up his hand to make her stop talking. He didn’t have to believe shit. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t want to talk about feelings. I don’t want to talk about us. I want you tell me what’s going on with you right now.”
“I don’t know what you mean. If you don’t want me to talk about us or why I left, what do you want to know?”
“If you’d gone off to some new great opportunity, it would be one thing. But you ghosted on me just to live in some shithole fire hazard, and that tells me you were running and I want to know what you were running from.”
Her expression closed off and that kind of abrupt withdrawal wasn’t in her usual nature, so he knew he’d hit a nerve. “It’s nothing that concerns you.”
“Bullshit. You’re staying with friends of mine. That makes whatever you’re afraid of my business.”
“Then I’ll leave.”
Grant blew out a breath, forcing himself to take a minute before saying anything else. Even in the beginning, when she’d maintained a distance, she hadn’t sounded hard. This kind of closed-off resolution was so unlike her, he knew something heavy was weighing on her. He needed to know what it was.
“It doesn’t work that way, Wren,” he said finally, in a much calmer voice. “You were mine and they’re like my family. That means you were theirs, too. They’ve already proven that, no matter what went down between you and me, they’re not going to turn their backs on you when you’re down. They’re not going to let you just walk away.”
“They can’t stop me.”
