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Gone.
She’d moved close to him. She’d opened up to him.
She’dkissedhim.
And then she’d just left him, without talking to him, without sortinganything.
She’d justleft.
Suddenly, he wondered why he was trying so hard, why he was fighting, why he was learning, when none of it made any difference.
Not to Teresa.
It would always be like this.
Him trying.
Her pushing him away.
He closed his eyes, sucked in a breath, trying for calm, wishing for it, wanting it to guide him, to help him show her that he was—
Itwould alwaysbe like this.
“So, what is the fucking point?” he muttered, closing the door to the garage.
He didn’t know.
Hedidn’tknow.
And that was what prompted him to flick off the kitchen lights, to walk out the front door.
There wasnopoint.
But because he was him, because he was the man he was, because he wouldn’t be able to sleep otherwise, he used her hide-a-key and locked up.
Maybe no point to his learning.
But he would make sure she was safe anyway.
Twenty-Two
Teresa
She walked into the hall, having half-expected Jeremy to be waiting in the shadows.
He wasn’t.
Her house was empty.
The counters wiped down, the lights off (minus a couple left on so that she could safely navigate). It was Jer’s doing.
She knew it with one look.
But Jeremy wasn’t here.
He’d…left.
And that—
