I glance over my shoulder, wondering if my mind is playing tricks on me. Her Camry is still parked.
“Her car is here,” I say, turning back around just as the door slams in my face.
That went worse than I thought, and I didn’t even get to talk to Brin. I knock, and then curse when I use my injured hand. The throbbing intensifies, punishing me for forgetting about it. Swapping to my left hand, I knock again.
“Go away, Rye. She’s not here. She took a cab because she didn’t have any gas in her car and she was running late,” Maggie says through the door.
No gas in her car? I can at least take care of that.
Shit. When did my life get so messed up?
***
BRIN
“Is he gone?” I whisper from my doorway, wiping away the streaks of fallen tears.
Maggie stares out the window for a moment, and then she sighs. “Finally. Yeah. He’s walking across the street.” She turns to me with the most apologetic eyes I’ve ever seen.
“Are you okay?” She cringes and quickly adds, “Don’t answer that. It was a stupid question. Of course you’re not okay.”
I sigh while coming to drop down to the sofa.
“At least the museum had to stay closed for a few extra days. The renovations hit a snag, and the building can’t be reopened until next week now.”
She hands me a fresh box of tissues, and I smile up at her very gratefully. “Thank God I have you,” I murmur, and she smiles as she comes to sit down beside me and wraps me up in the hug I need.
“You’ve been with me through some of the worst breakups ever. I can be here for you the one time you actually need a shoulder to cry on.”
She looks toward the window, and then her eyebrows scrunch. “Is he pouring gas into your car?” she asks, and I look out to see the same thing.
Shit. I have a full tank.
He figures that out when the gas starts pouring out of the jug and onto the ground instead of going into the car, and his eyes move to the house again. Through the thin curtains, we can see him, but I don’t think he can see us.
He puts the jug down, and starts walking this way, and I run to my room like the coward I am. “Don’t open the door this time,” I whisper, and Maggie walks over to the window just as the banging on the door starts.
“What now?” she asks, playing dumb.
“Her tank is full. Let me talk to her. I know she’s in there. I just saw her running out of the living room.”
Crap. So much for him not seeing through the useless curtains. We need blinds.
“She doesn’t want to see you.”
“I have a key,” he warns, and my stomach knots up.
Maggie flips the newly-installed chain lock into position, and I breathe out in relief.
“Go home. She doesn’t want to talk to you. I think you’ve said enough. Don’t you?”
I sink to the floor, still trying to catch my breath, when suddenly there’s a loud beating on my window. I jump and scream when I see Rye’s brown eyes staring expectantly.
Definitely buying blinds for every damn room in the house.
“Please go away,” I groan, standing as I wipe my eyes.
“I just want to apologize.”