Page 84 of Play It Sinful

“That’s what I want to do, but Sean is avoiding me.”

Kenzie crosses her arms and stares at nothing in particular. “Running away from problems isn’t Sean’s MO. I’m worried.”

My stomach clenches painfully, especially now that I know he used to self-harm. “I’m gonna try his phone again.”

It rings and rings, and I fear it’ll go to voicemail. When he answers, I almost don’t believe it.

“Hey,” he says in a raspy voice.

“Where are you? Everyone is worried.”

“I’m home. Can you come? We need to talk.”

My stomach churns. Nothing good ever follows when someone says those words. “Yeah, I’ll come right now.”

“See you soon.”

He ends the call before I can get another word in.

“So, where is he?” Kenzie asks.

“Home. He wants to talk.”

“Now?” Her brows arch.

“Yeah. Can you tell Mom and Chris where I went?”

“I can, but… are you sure you can drive?”

“I’m fine now. Besides, I have a feeling he wants me to go alone.”

Kenzie steps into my space and hugs me. “No matter what happens, I have your back.”

“Thank you. Wish me luck.”

She smiles. “You don’t need luck, Ash. I know Sean loves you.”

I wish I shared her optimism. I know he does, but sometimes, love isn’t enough.

CHAPTER 37

ASHLEY

“Sean?” I call his name from the entry hallway. He wasn’t in the living room or kitchen.

The house still smells like Christmas—cinnamon, vanilla, and peppermint scents hang in the air, thanks to Mom’s scented air fresheners. I used to love this smell, but I’m not sure I do anymore. It’ll depend on what happens in the next few minutes.

I head up the stairs and look in Sean’s room first. He’s not there, but his duffel bag is open on the bed, his clothes neatly folded next to it. He’s packing to leave. A knot forms in my throat, or perhaps it’s my heart stuck there.

I keep walking until I’m in front of my bedroom door. I don’t remember closing it when I left earlier. With a deep breath, I open it and walk in. Sean’s standing in front of my desk, looking out the window. He’s so tall and strong, he looks like a mountain, unmovable. His arms are crossed, and his posture is tense.

He turns, and I’d have run to him if I thought he would welcome my embrace. His eyes are cold and hard, and his jaw is locked tight. Shakes run through me as my chest tightens, squeezing my heart in the process.

“You wanted to talk.” I force the words out.

He nods. “You know this is over, right?”

Tears form in my eyes. I suspected that would be the outcome of this conversation, but I hoped I’d be wrong. “It doesn’t have to be.”

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