CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Chloe
He leaned against the car and pulled me into him, my back to his chest. “What’s it supposed to be?”
“An egg, I think.”
“What’s its purpose?”
“A water tower? I’m not sure.”
“Why do you always make me stop at these random things?” He pulled the lollipop out of his mouth and pointed it to the egg-shaped tower. “Do you think they built it with this in mind? That people would pull over and want to spend longer looking at it?”
I laughed. “You can’t stop looking at it, can you?”
“No,” he said, astonishment clear in his voice. “And I have no idea why.”
I stared at my breasts in the bathroom mirror.
They looked the same.
Only they weren’t.
I had imagined this moment so many times. I even thought that I’d prepared myself for it. But things had changed so much over the past few weeks that I had almost let myself believe that it would never happen.
But now, now it was happening.
I wiped the tears off my cheeks and attempted to inhale a few calming breaths. Then I shut my eyes and waited as every single possible emotion passed through me. And then I settled on one. I didn’t want to feel anymore. “I think we should go out tonight,” I shouted to Blake on the other side of the door.
“Yeah? You wanna go to dinner or something?”
“No. I’m thinking I might want to lose myself for a little bit.”
His footsteps got louder as he walked to the bathroom door. The handle moved but it didn’t push open. I’d made sure to lock it. “Open the door, Chloe.”
I rushed to get dressed and opened the door. His eyebrows bunched as he looked down at me. “You want to go out and have a few beers?”
“Yeah.” I feigned casualness in my tone. “Just for something different, you know?”
“Okay,” he agreed. “We might get carded, so dress whore-ish.”
I would have been offended by his suggestion if not for the fact that I’d already planned to.
Blake
We hadn’t been carded; they’d let us right in. Luckily, the bar was only a block away from the hotel, so we didn’t have to worry about getting back. We hadn’t had to worry much about anything since we’d hit the road.
But at that moment—I was worried. After her fifth shot of tequila, I asked if she was okay.
“Quit looking at me like that. I’m fine.”
I hadn’t realized I was looking at her like anything.
She brushed past me and headed toward the pool tables. “I’m taking a piss,” I told her. I went to kiss her quickly, but she pulled back and walked away. I tried to ignore it—the hurt from her actions and the concern over the way she’d been acting all night.
When I walked out of the restroom, she was leaning against one of the pool tables, her shorter-than-short skirt barely covering her ass. She had a cue in one hand and a beer in the other, but that wasn’t what set off the rage in my head. It was the guy standing in front of her. Too close in front of her. I made my way over and stood next to her, hoping my stance and physical appearance would make him fuck off. His eyes moved from Chloe’s breasts to me, and a disgusted snarl appeared on his face. “This your boyfriend?” he asked her but kept his eyes on me.
I sized him up and smirked. I could take him. Easy.
I leaned back and waited for her words of rejection so this asshole would get out of her face, but her dismissal never came.
“He’s whatever,” she said.
My heart stopped. Or picked up pace. I couldn’t tell.
When I turned to her, she was looking down at the floor, her head bent and eyelids heavy from the alcohol.
“Chloe!” I snapped. “What the hell’s gotten into you?”
“Fuck off, Hunter. You met me a few months ago, and you think you know me? Seriously, fuck off. You don’t know shit. I’m not some fucking damsel that needs saving. You think you can stick around and that’ll save me, you’re wrong.”
I got that she was drunk. Beyond drunk. But even when she had been loaded at Will’s party, she hadn’t talked to me like this. A ball formed in the pit of my stomach, and I stood straighter, staring at her, trying to work out what the fuck I should do.
Then the asshole stepped forward. “You wanna get out of here?” he asked her.
And I lost it.
I’d never been this pissed before.
Without even thinking, I grabbed her arm—rougher than I should have—and dragged her out of the bar.
I didn’t want to say something I’d regret, so I tried to compose myself before asking, “What’s wrong, Chloe?”
“Nothing!” she yelled. “Nothing is fucking wrong with me. And you—you have no right to control me like that. From where I stand, you and me—we’re nothing. I haven’t promised anything and neither have you.” She started walking hastily away from me.
I grabbed her arm and made her turn to me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You!” She pushed against my chest. “August 19. That’s all you’ve promised me. Maybe that’s not enough anymore!”
My heart dropped. It felt as if all the air had been knocked out of me. “What do you want me to say, Chloe? What the hell do you want me to do? Tell me, and I’ll do it!”
Her shoulders sagged, and a sob took over. “Nothing, okay? I want you to do nothing.”
She started walking back to the hotel. I followed, a few feet behind her, completely lost in my own thoughts.
What the fuck just happened?
Once we got to the hotel, I changed into my running gear, craving the numbness I knew the run would provide. “I’ll be back soon.”
She got into bed without bothering to change and nodded, refusing to look at me.
Chloe
“Chloe.” I could hear his voice, but he sounded far away. Then something nudged my leg. “Chloe,” he said again.
I waited for the room to stop spinning before opening my eyes.
Blake was hovering above me, chewing his thumb. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I replied, sitting up to try to clear my head.
He sat on the edge of the bed, his head down. Then his gaze lifted and locked with mine. “I’m gonna take off. I just wanted you to know . . . so you don’t wake up in the morning and wonder what happened.”
He was leaving?
I sat up straighter and tried to stop myself from throwing up. Not because of the alcohol but because of what was happening. And even though I’d expected it to happen, even needed it to happen, I’d never wanted it to happen. Not for a second. “Okay.”
All it took was that single word—that one response of approval—and I could see his heart shatter right in from of me. He sniffed and looked away. I followed his gaze, and my heart tightened like a vise. His bags were already packed. “Now?” I squeaked.
He stood up slowly. “I got another room for the night. I’m leaving in the morning. You can have the car until you get something else, then just contact my mom. She’ll take care of it.”
The ache in my chest became so painful I wanted to reach in and rip my heart out, throw it against the wall, and watch it as it slowly stopped beating and died. Maybe that was what was happening to me; maybe I was slowly dying.
I nodded.
He reached for his bag, picked it up, and took one step toward the door.
And that was when it happened.
My heart kicked back in, and I panicked. I lost all restraint from earlier. I jumped to my feet on the bed and wrapped my arms around his neck. “Blake, please,” I cried.
He dropped his bag and turned to me, but his hands didn’t touch me. “What, Chloe? What do you want?”
“Don’t,” I begged.
He shook his head. “Don’t what? I don’t know what the hell you want.”
All I could do was cry. The words were there. Don’t leave me. But I just couldn’t bring myself to say them out loud—to break the promise I’d made myself to never let anyone in.
He removed my arms from around him and took a step back, the sadness and regret clear on his face. “You can’t even say it, can you? You don’t even know what you want.” He took another step closer to the door.