Taking a deep breath I let it all out. Every single detail comes out, starting with the night of the bonfire at the beginning of summer. Once I start, it doesn’t stop. Once I finish, it feels like a weight has been lifted off my chest, leaving me raw and drained, mentally and physically.
She sits there, staring at me, unsure of what to say.
Then the look shifts to something close to pity and I can’t take that.
“Say something,” I snap.
Her brows lift. “About what?”
“I have no clue. Something? Fuck…Anything.” My hands come up, frustrated, useless. “Tell me I imagined it. Tell me I pushed too far. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me why the hell he saidthat to me and let me walk away like I was nothing. Tell me why the fuck he gets to do this and I’m just supposed to sit here and take it.”
Silence stretches between us.
“I think…” she says carefully. “Whatever’s going on with him has nothing to do with you not being enough, Colt. I’d be willing to bet it’s not personal at all.”
A humorless laugh slips out, my jaw aching slightly. “Yeah? Well it felt pretty fucking personal.”
She just shakes her head, giggling to herself, already turning toward her office down the hallway. “I’ll start digging into that anonymous number. I haven’t gotten shit yet, but if there’s something to find, I’ll find it.”
The door to her office clicks shut, leaving me alone with the hum of the TV and the pounding in my head.
The silence drags on around me, and it all plays back, over and over, like a scene I can’t escape. The way he looked at me. The way his fist felt against my face.
I knew it was coming but I had to push.
I just wanted him to feel a fraction of the hurt I was feeling. I know it’s petty, but I’d hoped that maybe he would see that and change his tune. I know he wants me; I felt it—saw it in every glance, every second he let himself slip.
But he wouldn’t even look at me. He let me leave because it was easier to let me go than to be honest.
I’m sure as fuck not enough to make him risk the lie he’s hiding behind.
Cedarbrook’s golden boy is too busy trying to be everything for everyone that I can’t even be anything for him and that fucking hurts.
I sink deeper into the couch, pressing the ice harder against my jaw until the cold starts to numb the pain.
My eyes fall shut, and for a second, I let myself disappear into it.
It’s been two days now, and I can tell Miranda is annoyed that we have yet to find anything on our anonymous texter. Every lead ends in a road block, but she’s giving it her all.
I ignore absolutely everyone and everything—every buzz my phone makes, the calls from family who care, or texts that follow. I’m not ready to give them the answers they want yet. Apparently, Halle has resorted to texting Miranda, based on the small bits of her texts that I’ve read.
Miranda pulls a pan out of the cabinet, causing another one to fall out onto the floor, creating a crashing sound that pulls me out of my already-fitful sleep. I sit up and rub my eyes and look over at her.
“Shit, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you up. I could tell you needed sleep, so I was trying to let you. It’s late. Why don’t you go back to sleep and we can get up tomorrow and talk. Okay?”
I don’t fall back asleep immediately, though. Instead choose to listen to her move around. “Hey, do you care if I crash for one more day then head home tomorrow? I need to figure out what to do since I’m out of a job.”
She agrees to let me stay and leaves me to my thoughts. Pulling out my phone, I stare at the screen, like it might decide for me.
One text. That’s all it would take. I know he’d fucking read it.
My thumb hovers over theSendbutton, and I stare at the screen and the empty text thread between Rhett and I.
Me:
If this is the life you choose, then you're a fucking coward. I hope you know you'll eventually run out of places to run away to.
I read the words over and over, feeling like it’s not enough and might be too much all at once.
