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Lessons in Cruelty

Page 622

by Logan Fox

Gone is the pizza box. The beer bottles we lined up like trophies last night. My notes that were scattered everywhere like I’d had a goddamn seizure while studying? All of it gone.

It’s creepy as fuck.

Like she erased last night.

Fuck my paranoia. I’m taking this as a good sign.

Haven wanted a fresh start—and so do I.

She’s in bed, curled on her side facing the wall, one hand tucked under the pillow, the other in a fist near her head. Her hair is a bronze spill across the white pillowcase, and⁠—

Jesus. She’s wearing one of my old football jerseys. I didn’t even realize they’d ended up in the duffel I packed, but thank God they did, because fuck me, the sight makes my cock twitch.

I walk to the bed like a fucking zombie when I should head for the shower to wash off last night’s booze and sweat.

…And the inexplicable stains under my fingernails.

Since I’d made a point of drinking enough to black out last night, there’s a huge chunk of time missing. If anyone in Kruger’s frat had been awake this morning, I’d have interrogated them, but they were all dead to the world.

Fuck it.

I don’t need soap, or memories…I need Haven.

I creep closer, trying not to make the floorboards creak.

Her shoulders rise and fall so peacefully as she sleeps.

She stayed.

I was so sure—sitting in that Uber, head pounding as I pieced together how I got from the bar to Kruger’s frat house with zero memory in between—that I’d walk in to find her gone.

Maybe a ‘fuck you’ scrawled on the bathroom mirror, if I was lucky.

But she’s here.

In our bed.

Looking hot as fuck in my shirt.

I close my eyes and just breathe. The panic that’s been eating at me since I woke up has finally shut the fuck up.

Then I lift the covers and slide in behind her.

She’s so warm. So solid. So fucking real.

I don’t touch her. Just lie close enough to feel her heat and inhale the scent of her lotion and shampoo and let myself believe we’re okay. Whatever I said last night, whatever she’s thinking, we can work it out.

I draw her hair away from her shoulder, pausing when I feel how wet it is.

Guilt surges inside me.

How long did she stay up waiting for me to come back before she realized I was going to stay out all night?

I trail my knuckles down the curve of her shoulder and lean in, intent on pressing my mouth to her skin and waking her up so I can⁠—

Her necklace is gone.

My heart fucking stops.