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Please don’t run off.
As if I have anywhere to go.
I wait until I hear his bedroom door close before I make my way over to the couch and put my head down on the pillow he laid out for me. I nestle into it and breathe it in even though it hurts.
It smells like him.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Leo
“Sky is downstairs sleeping on the couch. We have to be super quiet so we don’t wake her up.”
“Why?”
“Because she doesn’t feel good. She needs to sleep.”
Olivia’s eyes go wide. “She’s sick?”
“She just needs to get a good rest.” I prod her along as I dress her. “Let’s go. Maureen is having you over for pancakes while I get some work done, and then you can come back and see Sky after she wakes up.”
She side-eyes me, already knows when she’s being fed a line of bull and she hasn’t even turned five. It’s scary.
“Chocolate chip pancakes?”
“Knowing Maureen, it’ll be chocolate chip pancakes with some licorice bites and gummy worms thrown in for good measure.”
“Eww, that sounds yucky.”
“Yeah, that does sound gross.”
I give Olivia one moreshhbefore picking her up, opening her bedroom door and tip toeing down the stairs. Skylar shifts, rolls over in that tight space, but thankfully she doesn’t wake up.
I drop Olivia off and then head right back. I was kind of shocked to see that Sky was still here when I woke up at four and peeked downstairs. I don’t want to give her a chance to run. We’ve been circling around this same bullshit for weeks now, and I’m pretty sure that if she leaves now, I won’t ever get her back.
I’ve only been gone for a few minutes, five tops, but the couch is empty with the sheet, blanket and pillow stacked in a neat pile next to it on the floor. I let out a relieved breath when I hear the water turn on upstairs and then the shower.
She stops halfway down the stairs and tenses when she sees me in the kitchen making breakfast a few minutes later.
“Did you get a good sleep?”
I busy myself with what’s on the stove but look over quick. Before she can turn away I catch sight of her face, see her puffy eyes, the mottled red of her usually perfect skin.
“Slept like the dead. Thanks.”
When I see her stuffing her clothes from the night before back into her bag and zipping it up, I turn the burner off. Breakfast can wait.
Gesturing to her bag, I ask, “Did you take everything from the apartment?”
“All of my clothes. I left some of my books, maybe a few pairs of shoes. I’ll go back and get them after I find another place.” She pauses then adds, “I have an appointment with a realtor this afternoon.”
“I’ll take you to get your stuff now.”
I choose not to call her out on the lie. There’s no realtor showing her apartments today. No one is renting her an apartment for the six weeks she has left until she moves back into her free campus housing.
“I’ll go there myself.”
“No.” She turns, startled by my tone. “I’m taking you and we’re getting back every cent you paid that girl right now.”
