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My throat dries, making it impossible to swallow the pleas that he should leave with me, too. God, I’ve fallen into old habits so quickly. He hurt me so fucking badly, set a bomb off in my life and didn’t stick around to admire the debris, and here I am trying to save him. He didn’t want my help back then, why the hell would he want it now?

“It doesn’t matter,” I say quietly. “I have to see this through. Besides, I’m your ‘gift’, remember? If I suddenly disappear, it could blow your cover.” I drop the washcloth in the sink, craving a shower but not trusting that there aren’t any other cameras in this hell hole. “We’ll pretend we don’t know each other. Make them believe we’re people we’re not. Then … we go back to normal.” I meet his eye, hoping my voice conveys confidence that’s crumbling. “We forget each other all over again.”

Chapter 6

Cole

“You really don’t have to sleep on the floor,” Sunday whispers for the third time, and I tuck my hand behind my head.

We didn’t speak much after our conversation in the bathroom. We discussed sleeping arrangements, and it nearly descended into another argument. I think the only reason Sunday agreed to take the bed is because maybe she didn’t have the energy for another round with me, and I’m glad. Teasing her was always fun, but the reality of our adult lives is brutal. Our dynamic is no longer young, passionate love.

It’s twisted.

Dark.

“I’ve slept in worse places,” I say. “Besides, you kick in your sleep.”

I think I can hear her smile. Or maybe I just hope I can. “Not anymore.”

“How would you know?”

“I haven’t had any complaints.” The final word tapers off, and I rub the heel of my hand into my chest to dispel thoughts of anyone other than me touching her. It’s been ten years. I left her. It isn’t like I expected, or wanted, her to wait for me to come to my senses, but … it fucking burns that someone else has kissed her. Another man has heard her soft moans, and has seen the way she squeezes her eyes closed and clenches her toes when she comes. That was supposed to be for me and me alone before I fucked it all up. “You’re not allowed to be mad at me for that.”

This woman is a god damn mind reader. “I’m not mad that you’ve had a life, Sunday.”

“Please, I know you. You’re like a simmering pot.”

I sit up and rest my forearm on the bed. She’s on her side, facing me, the covers pulled up to her hip. “A simmering pot?”

“Yes. I can hear your bubbles.” Her smile is small and teasing, and I have to bite back my own. “That little hiss of steam.” I lay down again, my lip twitching. “You’ve had girlfriends.”

“Have I?”

“Um, yes. Of course you have.” She must turn over, because the sheets ruffle. “Anyone … special?”

I close my eyes. “Let’s not do this.”

“Why not? After this is over, we’ll never see each other again. Might as well dissect ourselves. Gives us something to dwell over for the next decade,” she mumbles the last few words, but I remain quiet. She doesn’t need to know what my love life has been like, and I don’t feel like turning this into a night of confessions. “Fine, then I’ll start. My dating life sucks. If they’re not losers, they’re ghosters. I had one meaningful relationship like two years ago, and he vanished with a one-word text. Your turn.”

My sigh could knock over buildings. “Sunday, I told you, I’m not doing this.”

“Why not?” she whines.

“Because what’s the point? Regardless of how long we’ve been apart, I have zero desire to know how good or bad your sex life is. You were my first love; I don’t need to know if you’ve loved anybody else.”

She snorts. “You say that like I was the one that got away. You ghosted me, too.”

“I said goodbye. I kissed you. I told you I loved you.”

“You also made a promise you had no intention of keeping.”

“Yeah, well, it’s a hell of a lot better than a midnight ‘sorry’ message, isn’t it? Give me credit for that.”

Another scoff, and then we fall silent. We’re slipping back into old patterns so fucking quickly. Argue, make up, argue, make up. At least back then we were fucking like rabbits, now I can only replay a kiss that was far too fucking quick.

“Wait a minute.” She leans over the edge of the bed to look down at me. “How did you know what Christopher’s message said?”

Shit.