Page 81 of Resisting my Roommate

And I refuse to sacrifice my dreams for someone else.

Not anymore.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

JUDE

The door slams shut behind me, but the sound feels hollow. Empty. Just like the rest of this damn place. I drop my keys onto the counter and toe out of my shoes, neatly arranging them out of the way. Though it hardly matters. No one’s here to care. No one’s been here for weeks. The townhouse is dark and silent, the same as it’s been since Abbey left.

Since I was too much of a coward to fight for her. To beg her to stay.

I scrub a hand over my face, trying to shake off the exhaustion that clings to me, but it’s no use. Every time I step inside this place, it’s like walking into a tomb.

I glance around the living area, my eyes lingering on the little reminders of her. The mug she used to drink her coffee. The blanket she draped over the arm of the couch. Hell, even her familiar scent lingers in every corner.

She should be here.

But she’s not.

It’s my own damn fault.

I head toward the refrigerator and open it, staring blankly at its contents — a few beers and takeout containers. I’m not hungry. Not really. I’m merely going through the motions.

Eat. Work. Sleep. Repeat.

That’s how I’ve been surviving since Abbey walked out of my life.

Hell, it’s how I survived before her, too.

Shut everyone out. Stop caring. Focus on the brewery.

It’s what worked after Krista and I split.

I thought it would work this time, too.

But it hasn’t.

The longer Abbey’s gone, the harder it’s become to fill that void.

Not work.

Not my routine.

Not even pretending like I don’t care.

Because Idocare. More than I thought possible.

Deciding on a liquid dinner, much like I have every night since I let Abbey slip away, I grab a beer and twist off the cap, letting it clatter to the floor as I take a long swig. The alcohol does little to ease the ache gnawing at my chest.

Without thinking, I start climbing the stairs, my feet carrying me to the one room I’ve avoided for years.

The nursery.

It’s the last piece of a life I never got to have, the life I’d planned with Krista before everything fell apart. Before the loss. The heartbreak. The silence.

Before she walked out and never came back.

My hand hovers over the doorknob, and I hesitate, my breath catching in my throat. This is the last thing I need right now, but something pulls me forward, a force I can’t explain. Maybe I’m tired of running from it. Maybe I’m just punishing myself.

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