“What are you doing?” I whisper, fighting to control the wobble in my voice.
“I’m not leaving you alone like this,” she states. “Workday’s over, and the warehouse is empty, so we’re going to go sit in the corner and stuff our faces with the cookies Steve’s wife made. And if you don’t want to eat, and you don’t feel like talking, you can throw darts to distract yourself. We can even print out someone’s face and stick it to the board.”
“What if…” My mouth doesn’t feel fully attached to my body. “What if I should just leave?”
“Then you leave.” Amanda’s lips press together. “But you should wait until youknowleaving’s the best choice.”
I nod and follow her.
The half-eatenplatter mocks me as Amanda swipes her third—no, fifth—cookie from the tray. They’re chocolate chip, slightly underbaked, just how I like them. They smell delicious.
But the chips are arranged in a smiley face.
The same smiles I was doling out forty-five minutes ago, before Grayson pulled into the dock. The thought of him would make me nauseous, if I wasn’t already on the verge of throwing up.
He’ll be back any minute, and I still don’t know if I should be here when he arrives. If hewantsme here. My dead phone sits on the folding table, taunting me with the possibility that he’s texted, saying he never wants to see my face again.
True to her word, Amanda hasn’t forced anything out of me—just kicked her feet up on an empty chair, loaded a livestream baseball game on her phone, and started chowingdown on cookies. A dart board I never noticed before hangs expectantly on the wall, but I don’t feel like printing a photo of Grayson’s face and piercing it with projectiles.
If anything, it should be a photo of me.
Because this is entirely my fault.
I didn’t hide the interview from Grayson on purpose. If I’d run into him between my mother’s call and the video meeting, I would have mentioned it. But I didn’t go out of my way to text him about it because it wasn’t a big deal. Nothing was going to change. It was a favor to my parents. Knowing he was probably buried in work, I didn’t want to cause him pointless stress.
Maybe, if he hadn’t received that reference call, it would have been the right choice.
Maybe it still would have been wrong.
Doesn’t matter now though, because,fuck,I think I might’ve just ruined everything.
All my achievements, all theeffortI put into doing everything well, and I carelessly ignored how one choice could impact the best thing I’ve ever had.
And Iknowit’s the best thing—that he’s the best choice I’ve ever made, the best gift to ever come into my life—because it wouldn’t feel like my lungs and heart, my entire world, are on the verge of collapse if he wasn’t.
I was heartbroken when I was fired, angry and disappointed when Kyle cheated on me. But this? It’s mounting into a fucking sledgehammer, and I don’t know if I can stop it. If Grayson will even give me a chance to explain.
He owes me that chance. If he really cares about me, he owes me enough credit to hear me out.
But Dawson broke his heart this week.
Just last year, that girl tore him up.
And I saw the pure joy on his face last night when I told him I was staying.
A heart that’s been jerked around like his might be done giving chances.
Fuck.
Something clangs outside the warehouse. Bile shoots up my throat. A fine tremor overtakes my hands as Amanda angles her head, squinting toward the open door.
She didn’t witness our exchange at the dock, but she reveals she has some idea of what’s going on when she quietly says, “It isn’t him,” and turns back to the baseball game.
It isn’t him, but itshouldbe. A simple tow shouldn’t take this long. Maybe he’s avoiding me.
I stare at my fingers, still shaking uncontrollably against the table top.
You should go. You’re reacting this way because instinct is telling you he doesn’t want you here. If you leave now, you’ll have enough time to grab your things from his house, and…and…
