Decker says nothing. He just shuts the door and leans his back against it, staring at me with a pained expression. “Pen…”
“It’s okay.” I smooth my hair and reach for my bag, then pull out my phone as if I have somewhere to be. “We finished the seating arrangements. I’ll send it to Janet in the morning.”
“That’s not what I?—”
“I know.” I look at him, so he understands that I mean it. I get it. I do, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. I walk toward the door, and he steps forward, but I weave by him. “It’s probably best that we stop seeing one another. I’ll text you with the details on the Dugout Social Club stuff, and maybe you can help Hazel at Hayes and Leighton’s place. I’ll leave food in the fridge as payment.”
“Penelope, I don’t want your food.” The words he’s not saying are clear—I want you, but I can’t have you.
I inwardly wince at my full name coming off his tongue again.
“It’s safer this way, Decker.” I stare right into his eyes so he can see he isn’t breaking me.
I place my hand on the doorknob.
The fact that he isn’t saying anything tells me everything I need to know. He’s far from ready to have me in his life.
I slip the door open and slide through, shutting it after me.
I don’t wait for him to fight for us. I don’t wait for him to come after me. I jog down the stairs and walk down the street, weaving through the Colts fans still celebrating the win.
I’m done waiting.
Chapter
Thirty-Three
Decker
* * *
The minute Penelope leaves, my body overflows with adrenaline to run after her. Chase her and tell her I’m sorry, that I want her so badly it aches, but she has to understand what I’d be sacrificing. That I chose her once before, and it ruined any relationship I had with my brother.
Besides, she’s the one who left me alone in a hotel room three years ago when I thought maybe our time had finally come.
Then I think about who’s above me—Foster. It’s one thing for Penelope to be in our friend group, it’d be another to remind him of my betrayal every time he had to see us together. There’s no way that a constant reminder of my unforgivable act that ruined our relationship we’re just now rebuilding would be conducive to us healing things.
Can’t she understand it’s the hardest choice I’ve ever had to make?
I did more damage by bringing her here, and not just because of the kiss. Because now I can visualize her here, in my space. Her water bottle still sits on the counter. A piece of paper with her handwriting that must have fallen off the coffee table lies on the area rug. The space feels like an empty void while the scent of her still lingers.
I throw myself on the couch, tucking the pillow to my chest. My gaze snags on the candle she picked up. I only own it because the scent reminds me of her.
It’s safer this way.
I agree with my conscience. I invented the word safer. I built an entire architecture around safer, and it’s worked until now. She’s gone again, and I’m sitting in the same place I always end up—alone with all the things I should have said and didn’t.
How many times have I been here before?
This feeling is so similar to the one I had back then.
Foster and Penelope lasted five months, which was mind-blowing to me.
Long enough that I learned to manage it. Long enough that I got good at being in the same room with the two of them and never giving one hint of my true feelings for her. Long enough that I started to believe I wanted them both to be happy, and if they were happy together, then I was fine with it.
I was not fine with it.
Aurora broke up with me two months into their relationship after the four of us went out to eat, and I was my usual pissy self. She called me out on my shit. She saw through my fake smile and pointed out every time I looked at their entwined hands or Foster’s hand on Penelope’s shoulder. But as far as I knew, neither Foster nor Penelope had figured me out, which is funny since they knew me better than anyone.
