My chest cracked wider with every step away from her door. Ribs splitting. Heart exposed. Bleeding out onto cheap apartment carpeting.
I made it to my car. Sat in the driver's seat. Stared at nothing.
My hands still shook.
I could still smell her on my skin. Still taste her. Still feel the ghost of her touch burning through my clothes.
I'd just walked away from the only good thing I'd ever wanted.
Because that was what I did.
I ruined things. Then left before they could see how broken I really was.
Chapter 17
Olivia
I woke up alone.
The other side of the bed was cold. Empty. Like he'd never been there at all.
I lay there staring at the ceiling, stomach sinking with every breath. The apartment felt smaller than usual. Quieter. The kind of quiet that pressed against my eardrums until they ached.
My body hurt in unfamiliar places. A dull throb between my legs. Tenderness in my hips where his fingers had gripped too tight. Proof that last night had been real. That I hadn't imagined the way he'd touched me. The way he'd looked at me like I mattered.
The way he'd left, anyway.
Shame crawled up my throat. Hot and acidic. I squeezed my eyes shut against it, but that only made it worse. Made the memories sharper. The desperate way I'd kissed him. The pleading in my voice when I'd asked him not to let go.
God, I'd begged him.
And he'd still walked away.
Confusion tangled with something deeper. Something that felt dangerously close to longing. I wanted to be angry. Wanted to hate him for leaving. But I couldn't. Because part of me had known this would happen. Part of me had watched him pull away even while he was inside me. Had seen the guilt written across his face. The way his jaw locked when he looked at the blood on the sheets.
I'd seen it. And I'd ignored it.
That was on me.
He regrets it. I knew he would.
The thought settled in my chest like a stone. Heavy. Final.
I forced myself to sit up. Every muscle protested. I felt raw. Exposed. Like I'd peeled back layers I couldn't put back in place.
My phone sat on the nightstand. No messages. No missed calls.
Nothing.
I pushed off the bed. Stood on shaking legs. Caught sight of myself in the small mirror hanging by the bathroom door.
Messy hair. Dark circles under my eyes. A faint bruise forming on my collarbone where his mouth had been.
I looked away.
I needed to work. Needed to move. Needed to do something other than stand here replaying every second of last night. Needed to stop waiting for him to come back.
Because he wouldn't.
