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The bed beside me is empty when I wake. Everything that happened last night comes flooding back to me, and I throw my arm over my eyes. Oliver is moving around downstairs, probably making breakfast.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what Oliver wants. Hell, I don’t know what I want.
His footsteps thump on the stairs, then get closer. When I uncover my eyes, he’s standing in the doorway. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I sit up to see his closet standing open. And empty. A few boxes and bags lie scattered around the room. “Oliver?”
He comes over and sits on the edge of the bed. There’s no anger in his expression or voice, only resignation and reluctance when he says, “I’m going to move back to my apartment.”
“No, you don’t need to do that. I—”
“I do,” he interrupts. “We both need it, Ella.” He reaches to brush my hair behind my ear. “I’m so grateful to you. I can never repay you for everything you’ve done for me.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” The thought of him leaving, of not having him here every evening when I get home from work and not being there when I wake in the mornings is unbearable. “I’m sorry about last night. I am. Don’t leave. We can…figure things out. Maybe it’s wrong for me to want you, but I do,” I confess.
He sighs and shakes his head. “You want me because I look like the man you loved.”
His words slam into me. “No.”
“Why didn’t you want me to cut my hair?”
The question catches me off guard. “What?” My phone begins to ring from my room, but I ignore it.
He looks me in the eye. “You said I’ve always kept it short, but you didn’t like when I cut it. I thought maybe it was because it covered the scars on my scalp, but it’s not that. The long hair made me look more like Alden.”
Oh my god. Is that why?
“I can’t take his place, and I can’t figure out who I am when you want me to be him.”
“I don’t.” My words come out in a sob, and I cover my mouth.
“You don’t mean to. You’ve been through so much and you’re confused, but you only want me because I’m almost him. I can’t be the runner up.”
The spare. He doesn’t even remember that, and I’ve still made him feel that way. Oh fuck. What am I doing?
He slides his hand into mine. “We’ll still see each other. I think some space would be good for both of us right now. It’s time for me to go home.”
He’s right.
I hate it, but he’s right.
“I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted was to hurt you.”
He hugs me. “I’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” My phone rings from my room again and he stands up. “You might want to check that. Whoever it is isn’t giving up.”
“Yeah.” I don’t want to stay in his room and watch him finish packing. It’s probably Tori wanting me to meet her for lunch or something. I desperately need to talk to her, but I’m not sure I can bring myself to tell her what’s happened.
My phone shows four missed calls from Milo. What the hell?
He picks up on the first ring when I dial him back. “Ella! Thank fuck. I’ve been calling both of your phones and neither of you would pick up!”
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“The cops are here. They have a warrant to search the shop and Oliver’s apartment. They’re tearing the place up.”
What he’s telling me makes no sense. “A warrant for what?”
