Page 12

It’s just…I’m only good at one thing, and relationships aren’t it.

I drag in a slow inhale as spikes prick down my arms, forcing my hands into fists.

There’s a sudden pause in the shuffling.

Willow is probably giving me a judgy look or something. Whatever. It doesn’t matter because, in a second, she’ll walk out of my life. Now that I know she’s okay, I can go back to sleeping well and putting all my focus into baseball while—

My breath puffs out when Willow wraps her arms around me and squeezes.

“What— What are you doing?” I ask, my lashes fluttering.

“You needed a hug,” she says simply, gripping me even tighter.

With my arms trapped at my sides, it’s almost as if I’m her captive. The idea makes this weird sensation bubble in my chest, like a laugh wanting to escape.

Pushing it down, I say, “No. I’m fine.”

“Sure you are,” Willow singsongs, patting my back like I’m a freaking toddler.

Does she not notice our size difference? She’s the one who barely comes up to my shoulder.

“Did you lose your sportsball game tonight? Is that why you’re extra grumpy?”

What the heck? Is she trying to make me snap at her?

“No. And it’s called baseball.”

Willow hums, her fingertips sliding up between my shoulder blades, idly stroking back and forth. You’d have to be skilled at torture for me to admit how that feels, and even then, I wouldn’t break.

“The loudest, gruffest dogs at the clinic are usually the ones that need the most cuddles.”

I lift my head, not realizing I’d been curling toward her raven hair. “Did you just call me a dog?”

Willow’s chin raises until she rests it directly over my heart, peering up at me. “Kinda.”

There’s a mischievous gleam in her eyes that I don’t know how to respond to. I don’t know how to process any of this.

“Get out.”

Willow giggles.

She laughs at me demanding she leave my residence, my sternest expression on my face. I’ve scared away countless people with this exact scowl, but Willow only chuckles at me.

“Okay, Grumpypus.” Her multicolored fingernails pat my sleeve twice before she releases me. “I’ll wear you down eventually.”

I almost lose my balance, the emotional whiplash is so jarring. “No, you won’t. We’re never going to see each other again.”

Willow picks up her supplies, walking backward. “But I’ll be in your house, moving things around.”

She extends the O sounds, like she’s talking about a spooky ghost. I get the distinct impression that if Willow’s fingers weren’t clenched around bottles, a bucket handle, and a mop, she’d be wiggling them in my direction.

I fight against the urge to snatch everything from her hands. Willow has been carrying her supplies to and from my penthouse for who knows how long. She doesn’t need help now.

“This isn’t funny.”

One of her eyes squints shut as she tilts her head to the side. “Debatable.”

It takes everything in me not to growl.