He had declared his love and she had cried like a frightened child. Now, as he drove home, he stared at the road ahead of him. Completely silent.
When she pulled the oversized sweater more tightly around her body, his voice broke into her thoughts.
“Cold?” he asked as he moved to fiddle with the knob.
“Thanks,” she said.
He reached over and took her hand in his, then gave it a gentle squeeze.
“Thank you,” she said. “For last night, I mean. I was kind of a mess.”
He brought their entwined hands up to his chest and said, “I meant what I said. All of it. I get that you’re scared.”
She closed her eyes as he spoke. He saw too much. Way too much.
He pressed a kiss to her fingers, then released her hand.
When they reached the apartment, they silently gathered the things from the back of the truck and walked upstairs. In the hall, between their two apartments, she finally spoke.
“I think I need to be alone for a little while.”
He nodded, though she saw a flicker of sadness on his face. Clearing his throat, he said, “When you don’t want to be alone, I’ll be here.”
She saw him gesture to his door. She nodded, then put her hands on his cheeks and pressed her lips against his.
It was brief, fleeting, but she still felt the slight flutter in her heart.
It turned into a slight pang as she walked away.
Over the next few days, she dodged her calls. With the exception of work, she’d been hiding in her apartment trying to regain a bit of the peace she had before. However artificial it had been.
She had come to a decision though. She couldn’t continue to live like this with Evan. Having him right across the hall. She had come to depend on him. It would be easier to leave now, before things really fell apart. That way, maybe she’d be able to keep it together.
He had given her the space that she asked for. Initially it had been a relief, but now, it didn’t feel like enough. He was still there in the shop, at the mailbox. He just gave her that slow, steady gaze.
She had come to the conclusion that she had a shit load of stuff to work through. She’d thought that she had put her childhood behind her. Clearly that had been wishful thinking. She couldn’t imagine that anyone would have the patience to stay with her while she worked through this.
As she slipped the notice to vacate under his door, she exhaled slowly. It was the right thing to do. She didn’t want to put him through all of this. She didn’t want to risk losing anything else. It was better to end it now.
On a shuddering sigh, she let herself into her apartment and started to clean up. She’d been lying mostly in a fetal ball for the past few days. She needed to find a new place, sort through her shit, and decide what was worth taking.
Over the next hour, she threw in some laundry, washed the dishes that had piled up in the sink, and scrubbed the bathroom. It felt good to expend some energy on something that had tangible results.
When she heard the knock on the door, she knew it was him. With a sense of foreboding, she opened the door.
He stood there, her letter in hand, a mixture of anger and pain on his face. He held the note up and asked, “Seriously, Taryn?”
She said, “I can’t be here anymore. I’m sorry.”
“I get that,” he said. “I get that you don’t feel the same. I get that we’re not together anymore. You’ve made that clear. I don’t have any fucking clue what happened, but I guess that doesn’t even matter.”
She opened her mouth to speak but he held up a hand to stop her.
“You tell me all of this with a note? That you’re leaving. We’re done. You slip a goddamned note under my door? That’s really fucked up,” he said, his voice raised.
“I’m sorry,” she said helplessly. “I need time and space. I thought I could do this but—”
“You know what?” he snapped. “It doesn’t even matter. Be out by the end of January. Take all the space you need.”