“How?” Sarah asked.
“I called him out. I don’t think he expected it, and he backed off. I promise I’ll report him if he says anything again.”
“I really don’t think you should wait to do that.”
My phone rang, saving me from yet another unpleasant discussion. I checked the screen. It was Trey. His calls were growing in frequency. I never answered them or listened to the messages; I wasn’t interested in being berated or hearing another lecture on why I should hand over the house to him. I silenced the call.
“Who was it?”
“Nobody important. So tell me more about this possible date with Chris.”
*
Lisa was the first person to stop in at Serendipity the following day. Cassie was puttering around in the stacks, looking for a few books. I hadn’t told Cassie about the problems with Hayden, and she hadn’t mentioned anything. Lisa didn’t bring up the topic of Hayden in front of Cassie, either, which led me to believe Cassie wasn’t in the know. With a tense smile Lisa told me I should come by Inked Armor later. I said I would, even though I wasn’t sure.
What Sarah said last night made me more confused, not less. While the situation with Sienna was a point of contention, it wasn’t my biggest problem. And it wasn’t just the secrets I was keeping. Hayden would be hurt when I told him the truth. But more than that, I was only now beginning to see how damaged he was, too. If my having a fiancé who died less than a year ago didn’t ruin things between us, my growing dependency on him could.
My anxiety snowballed as the worries percolated. It got so bad during my shift at Serendipity that I ended up in the bathroom. I hadn’t eaten since the morning, so when I threw up, it was all bile. Cassie sent me home early and told me not to come in the next day. I tried to argue, but she wouldn’t have it. I went out the back door so no one from Inked Armor would notice my departure.
I was curled up in bed, snuggling with TK, when a message came through on my phone. It was Hayden, checking to make sure I was okay. I replied that it was probably the flu and I’d be fine by tomorrow. Twenty minutes later he called. I let it ring three times before I gave in to the impulse to pick it up.
“Hi,” I rasped, my throat sore.
“Hey. Cassie told me you were sick.” Hayden cleared his throat—he sounded so unsure. “Anyway, I uh—I know you don’t want to see me right now, but I left some ginger ale and soda crackers outside your apartment ’cause I know you don’t have shit for food.”
I smiled even as my eyes welled with tears. I missed him so much that I ached.
“Thank you.” My voice broke.
“Tenley? Shit. What’s wrong?”
“I’m okay. I just don’t feel well.” The lie sounded horrible even to me.
“Can I come over? I know things aren’t fixed between us, but it’s been three days. I just want to make sure you’re all right.” There was silence for a few seconds. “I don’t expect to stay. Please don’t say no.”
Sarah was right. I was torturing myself. Saying yes might be the wrong thing to do, but I did anyway. Hayden was at my door almost as soon as I hung up the phone. He stood there with a bag of groceries tucked under his arm. There were circles under his eyes to match mine, and he hadn’t shaved today.
“Can I come in?”
Almost paralyzed by the desire to put my arms around him, I had to command my body to move back and allow him through the door. He took off his shoes and arranged them neatly on the mat. His jacket stayed on, however. He crossed over to the counter and began unpacking the groceries, sorting them into perishables and nonperishables. He opened the fridge and hesitated. We usually did groceries on Sundays. I hadn’t had much of an appetite, so I hadn’t bothered to go myself. If he was upset with me over it, he didn’t say anything. Instead he put everything away while I sat on one of the stools across from him, my legs too unsteady to keep me upright.
When he was done, he poured a can of ginger ale into a glass. Then he dumped a teaspoon of sugar into it and stirred.
“What are you doing?”
“Taking out the fizz. My mom used to do this when I was sick as a kid. It’s easier on your stomach.”
He slid the glass across the counter when all the bubbles were gone. My fingers grazed his as I took it from him. The fleeting contact wasn’t enough.
“Thanks for letting me come by,” Hayden said. He went over to the sink, wrinkled his nose at the dishcloth, and got out a brand-new one. The wine from the night before had dried on the counter, leaving behind a sticky residue. He wiped it down.
“You don’t have to clean my apartment.” I took a sip of the ginger ale. It tasted like heaven.