Page 90 of Catching Feelings

“There’s nothing to explain, Miles.” She shifts her bag on her shoulder and gives me a forced smile. “Have a good day.”

She pushes through the main entrance door and I’m left standing dumbfounded on the street. No hard feelings? She didn’t mean that. If she did, she wouldn’t have been so cold. So stilted. She wouldn’t have panicked when she saw me.

There’s no way in Hell she’s fine. This is what Rowan does. Never wants to offend, avoids conflict. It’s why she opened up toAdam, telling him about her family, her scars. Her sexual needs. I hurt her but she’s too kind to call me on it. That’s not something I’m okay with.

Ineedto hear her curse me out. Ineedto hear her tell me how much of an asshole I am. It’s the only way I can heal, and the only way she can too. Whether she wants to or not, we are going to have that conversation.

Most people don’t take me seriously, but that’s because they’ve never seen me care enough about anything to chase after it.

Get ready, Doc, because I’m not stopping the chase until I’ve caught you.

?CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

ROWAN

Shit. Miles isn’t going away. Three times last week, I spotted him near my car at the end of my shift. I ended up taking the T home, which was a blessing in disguise. I didn’t have to deal with Boston traffic and I could zone out for forty minutes.

Not that I zoned out. My brain hasn’t shut off since discovering Miles is Adam. I’ve managed to dodge him for over a week and returned to my apartment this weekend, knowing he was away for a game.

Jackson, bless his heart, didn’t meddle. He loves all things gossip, but he works a ridiculous number of hours, and by the time he got home at night, I was already tucked away in the guest room. Normally, I would have loved to hang out with him and Taylor, but they’d see through my façade and drill me on the real reason I was hiding in their spare room.

I figured a week was enough time for Miles to forget about me. It’s not like we’d been dating for very long. We’ve actually been broken up—if that’s what we’re calling it—longer than we were together. At least in my book.

Now that I’ve had a week to come to terms with the lies, I’m not as angry as I was when I first made the discovery. Hurt, yes. Feeling betrayed, absolutely. I’m so confused as to why he would do that. Create a fake persona and string me along. For a hot minute, I thought maybe he wasn’t aware who Elizabeth77 was until it was too late, but then I remembered telling him about the app and my handle when we were at Kendall and Nash’s summer party on my birthday.

He knew. He coaxed information from me—personal, private, intimate information—and used it to get close to me.

Flu season has kicked in, so the office is busy, which keeps me mostly distracted throughout the day. When I cautiously make my way to my car at six, I sigh in relief when I don’t see a hunky man lurking nearby. No, not hunky.

Well, fine. Miles may be an ass, but he’s still hunky, and I kinda don’t like him for that.

It’s so not fair. My heart betrays me every time I think about him. I don’t want to miss him. I don’t want to want him. But I do, despite how humiliated I am.

As I get closer to my car, I notice an envelope tucked under the wiper. I yank it out and am tempted to leave it on the ground, but I’m not a litterer. I chuck it on my passenger seat and ignore it while I drive home.

At least, I try to ignore it. The damn envelope taunts me the entire commute. Leaving it on the seat, I gather my things and close the car door with my hip. Double-checking that my door is locked, I keep my head held high and refuse to look through the window at the cream envelope that has my name written across the front.

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