It feels good on my tongue. Like a dirty demand.
Like her name.
But I’m still not sure what the fuck that means.
I pull out my cell and text her.
Ryan: Let me know you’re okay.
She texts back immediately.
Leighton: I’m safe.
Ryan: Where are you?
Leighton: Safe.
She isn’t gonna tell me. I know her that well.
Or maybe I don’t. Maybe Leighton wants me to ignore her boundaries. To fight her no. Plead for a yes. Beg her to change her mind.
But I respect her too much for that.
Ryan: I’ll be here if you want to talk. All night.
Nothing.
I stare at my cell for ten minutes, but it fails to blink with a notification. The humid air—the AC is off—gets warmer.
My suit sticks to my skin. My tie strangles my throat.
Layer by layer, I shed my suit.
I leave it a mess on the floor—what does it matter how I look tomorrow?—and step into the shower.
The hot water washing away the sand and the salt, but it does nothing to erase the day.
When I close my eyes, I see her. The hurt in her blue-green eyes. The tremble of her lip. The heave of her chest as she mustered up the courage to spill those three little words.
My eyes get itchy. Tired. I shampoo, condition, soap, scrub, rinse.
When I’m done, I step out of the shower, wrap myself in a towel, take out my contacts.
My eyes relax behind my thick lenses. The world isn’t quite as sharp. But then it’s not like I can see any of the shit in front of me.
She left because I wasn’t enough.
How the fuck do I deal with that?
Leigh is my best friend. My silver lining. My favorite part of every day.
Losing her as a partner is one thing. But this…
She doesn’t want to see me again.
She wants to run a million miles away.
That’s what she does when someone hurts her. She burns the bridge to the ground.