Atlas gives me a sympathetic look, but it’s Atticus who speaks next.
He’s standing by the far window, his arms crossed over his chest. “Have you asked him about all of this? There might be an explanation you’re not seeing.”
They really don’t understand. How could any average person know that hoping for honesty when you’re used to demanding it is more terrifying than being back in that dingy warehouse?
“Communication isveryimportant,” Cameron adds gently, his head resting against Atlas’s shoulder as he gives me a knowing look.
Communication? Nate and I? Right—likethatis going to happen.
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “I just want him to come home. I want things to feel how they did when I first moved here. I’m tired of waking up alone.”
Or in the middle of the night, my skin slick with sweat and my heart thundering loud enough to remind me that no one is around to show me the stars.
“Want me to ask him?” Julian suggests. “Maybe his libido is failing, and he’s too embarrassed to tell you or something.”
“His libido isdefinitelynot the issue,” I counter, and Cameron scrunches his nose as Atlas giggles, burying his face into Cameron’s hair. “Plus, you asking him will probably just piss him off.”
Actually, almost everyone pisses Nate off. Even me.
Is that… is that what this is? Has he come to his senses and realized that he doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life in a perpetual fight? I may crave it, but… maybe Nate doesn’t.
“Maybe I should just go home,” I grumble, my hands falling loosely at my sides as defeat takes hold of me.
The darkness is swarming again, something I’ve become reacquainted with in the past six months.
“What?!” Atlas shrieks. “No! We love having you here, Lan. You can’t justleave.”
“But if I have nothing here for me, I might as well—”
Atlas’s bedroom door swings open, slamming loudly into the wall as Nate stands in the threshold.
He looks… horrible—with sweaty, disheveled hair, pale skin, and his chest heaving like he’s run across stateliness.
“You’re back?” I ask, my voice portraying all of the shock and fear I have swirling inside of me. “What happened?”
“We need to talk.” The words are simple, if a little panicky, but it’sNatesaying them.
This is the worst day of my life. I have been waiting for the other shoe to drop since he was coerced into telling me he loves me, and now it’s here. He’s done.
“Okay,” I whisper, my entire body deflating, as if it’s readying itself to later lock up for a fight.
All four of the guys are staring at me with wide, concerned eyes as I grab my shoes, slipping them back on.
“What was happening here?” Nate asks, still panting lightly as his confused, honey eyes look around the room.
“Boys’ night,” Julian lies.
It was not a boys’ night. I came over at 9 p.m. without a single invitation, demanding that someone talk to me. Luckily for me, I’ve grown quite close to this little group, and I wasn’t left out to dry.
“See you guys,” I murmur, following Nate onto the steep staircase as a chorus of goodbyes follows us.
Once we’re outside, I speak again. “Why did you come home early?”
“Not happy to see me?” Nate teases, but it’s lacking his normal ferocity. He sounds tired.
“I am.”
“Take your car home. I’ll follow you,” he insists.
