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But I was done. Over it. I’d held up my end of the bargain, and it was time to get out or I’d never recover.
The crunch of gravel filled the silence between us.
My gaze darted to the empty lot to see a large van pull in, and when it came to a stop and a man with a camera stepped out, my whole body tensed.
The press caught wind of the fire.
“I’d better go,” I rasped into the silence. The last thing I wanted was to face the cameras and give a statement for the local news.
Anyway, I was no longer Thorne Robert’s girlfriend. I’d handed that baton back to him the moment I posted our breakup.
“Scarlett, wait . . . ”
I shook my head as I backed away and the cameraman started snapping, careful to keep my head down because if I looked into his eyes, I might break.
With my throat tight and my heart in fits, I slid inside my car and turned the keys in the ignition with shaking hands.
And by the time I looked in my rearview mirror for one last glimpse of Thorne, he was already gone.
I had no idea how I made it home through the haze of tears and the gut-wrenching ache in my chest.
The drive was a blur.
I stared unblinking at the road, my thoughts fixated on the look of betrayal and pain in Thorne’s eyes as I left him. How I was the one to put it there.
Only a short time ago, I told myself I’d be there for him, and already, I was breaking that promise.
I chewed on my lip as I pulled into the driveway, then slid out my phone and texted P an SOS.
My phone dinged immediately, and I released a shaky breath, relieved she was around.
Penelope:Where are you?
Me:Home.
Penelope:Be right there.
I shoved my phone in my pocket and leaned my head back against the headrest of my seat, wondering what Thorne was doing at this very moment and if he was every bit as upset.
Did he have anyone to talk to? A friend to call?
I already knew the answer to my question, and it made me ache in ways I hadn’t thought possible.
I squeezed my eyes closed, then opened them and stepped out of the car.
If I sat in the driveway much longer, my parents would grow concerned.
I made my way to the front door and let myself in. Voices trickled toward me from the kitchen, and I was only about two seconds away from completely falling apart, so I knew I couldn’t face them. Which is why I hit them with a preemptive strike.
“Mom, Dad, I’m home,” I called out in the steadiest voice I could manage.
“Honey, are you okay? Why don’t you come and sit with us?” Mom asked, peeking her head around the corner.
I swallowed over the thickness in my throat and quickly swiped at the moisture in my eyes, hoping my face wasn’t as red and puffy as it felt. “That’s okay. I’m kind of tired, and I think P might stop by, so I’m going to head up, maybe get a shower.”
“Okay. If your sure,” Mom said, scrutinizing me from head to toe like I might break.
I nodded. “I’m sure.”
