Page 132 of If Our Hearts Collide

“Okay. I’ll probably just mope around and beg for your safe return so we can cuddle on the couch and watch movies.”

“Penny…”

“What? Oh, let me guess. You find that offensive too?”

“What happened in the alleyway was wrong.” He clears his throat. “The kiss… I was wrong. I knew better, and I took advantage of you.”

“Can you do it again?”

“No,” he snaps, his jaw dropping just a tad before he regains his composure.

I let out an exasperated breath. “And why not, Collins? I’m a consenting adult. I consent to your hands roaming up my body. I consent to your mouth devouring me. I consent to it all. I want more.” The desperation can’t be removed from the tone of my words. I’m needy and whiny—and I also don’t care.

“Never again, Penny.”

I take a step closer to him. “You are horrible for my ego. You know that?”

“I never want to hurt you.”

“Well, I’m hurt.” It’s the truth too.

“I’m looking for a replacement.”

“A replacement for who?”

“Me. I can’t keep guarding you.”

It’s like the breath is taken from me at just the sound of his words. “If not you, then who?” I demand.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”

“And I get no say yet again?”

“That’s correct.”

I’m angry that he’s giving up on me. And I’m angry that I’m upset over this.

For weeks, I’ve resented Collins for being in charge of my safety. Then when I finally start enjoying his company, he wants to desert me and pass me off to someone else.

Pushing at his chest, I try to get him to move. “Just leave. Bye. Go enjoy your time away from me.”

A sadness hits his features, but he doesn’t argue or defend himself or his choices. When Collins exits my apartment, I shut the door and lean my back against the smooth surface.

I feel emotionally drained.

Closing my eyes, I rub both hands behind the back of my neck, trying to ease the building tension.

Knock.

Knock.

Knock.

Startled by the sound, I push myself off the door and take a look through the peephole, expecting to see Collins. Instead, I see the delivery girl from the other day when I confused her as my roommate, holding a balloon with a teddy bear attached.

Opening the door, I sign off on the gift she hands over to me.

“Thanks,” I mutter, not in the mood to make small talk.

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