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He’s leaving me alone.

And I hate it.

30

WYATT

Fight for Us

Idon’t sleep.

I try.

At some point around two in the morning, I even turn my phone off and shove it into the nightstand drawer because apparently staring at it every thirty seconds doesn’t magically make Quinn text me.

Who knew?

Pickles gives up on me around three and sprawls across the other side of the bed with a long, suffering sigh.

“Yeah, your night sucks too.”

His ears twitch.

Mine sucks more.

I close my eyes again.

Immediately, I’m back in Quinn’s apartment.

Maybe I wanted to know what it was like.

You helped me with that.

I never meant to hurt you.

Every time I replay it, I find some new way for it to hurt.

Apparently, somewhere along the way, I confused being the guy she felt safe experimenting with for being the guy she actually wanted.

That’s fucking humiliating.

I’ve spent months chasing her through every no she didn’t really mean. I’ve pushed, teased, flirted, and annoyed her until she admitted she wanted the same thing I did.

But last night wasn’t flirting.

She looked me in the face and ended it.

So this time, I have to listen.

Even if it fucking kills me.

I roll onto my side and punch my pillow into a shape that isn’t going to help.

Pickles lifts his head.

“Go back to sleep.”

He stares at me.