Page 50 of This

I play with the door handle, wondering if Kelly gets fifteen minutes like I used to. It never seemed like enough time to do much of anything.

“Bennett,” he says, bringing my focus back.

“You know how you went to homecoming with your dad’s wife?”

Great lead-in.

“Forever trying to forget”—he crosses his arms—“but go on.”

“I went to mine with Keaton’s cousin.” The knob turns clockwise and counterclockwise in my hand, and I watch it rather than him. “We dated for over two years in high school and another six months in college.”

“That’s a long time.” His voice stays even, not offering any indication of his reaction. “So, it was serious?”

I peek, but his expression matches the tone. “As serious as it could be with him screwing anything that moved.” I go back to studying the metal, gold paint flaking off. We keep having these moments in dressing rooms, and I make a mental note to avoid them in the future.

“I take it he wasn’t at the engagement party, or I would have known.”

“He’s stayed away from family functions since we broke up, but he showed at Christmas, and…” I peer up, andthe lookawaits, drawing the rest out of me. “He tried to kiss me.”

“On Christmas Eve?” His stare hardens, the indifference gone. “Before you came to see me?”

I swallow, realizing Dane considers this a bigger deal than I gave it credit for.

He waits for my nod before he smirks and shakes his head. “And you waited until now to tell me you kissed him?”

“I didn’t kiss him,” I say fast.

The irritation in my tone isn’t expected but sounds right, and he responds to it with his own.

“Fine,” he says, voice harsh but hushed, “I’ll rephrase. Your lips were on your ex’s in the same night they were on mine. Is that a more accurate description?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to stay calm. He’s twisting the situation into me cheating on him, and as someone who’s been on the receiving end of that conversation, it takes a lot.

“It wasnothinglike you’re making it out to be. Bentley tried something, and I shut him down.”

“We’re together.” He steps toward me, a disdain in his expression I haven’t experienced before. “That’s what you told me that night, Bennett. We’re fucking together.”

“We were. We are.”

“Did you bother telling him that?”

The accusation is like a slap in the face, and I have to suppress the urge to actually slap his. “How can you ask me that?”

He heaves out a breath, followed by a single, annoyed laugh. “Why wouldn’t I? You only now told your best friend about us, so what would make me think mentioning it to an ex while he—” He stops and holds up his hands. “No. You know what? I’m not doing this.”

“Doing what?” I ask as he brushes past to grab the clothes off the bench. “Dane,” I say.

But he’s already stalking away through the abandoned clothing section, leaving me with the sudden threat of tears. I have no idea what he’s not doing, but it sure as hell feels like anything to do with me.

I catch up with him at the only open register, the cashier starting to scan the clothes. I mentally vetoed half of them, but I doubt now is the time to mention it. Just like it wasn’t the time to talk about Bentley.

“You can’t just walk away like that,” I tell him on our way across the parking lot.

He ignores me. The last time we left a store together, he wanted everything to do with me. Now it’s the opposite, and nothing feels right. Anxiety digs its claws in when he starts the car, still not looking at me. I don’t need to refer to any therapy sessions to explain the ache in my chest. We’re reenacting the last few minutes I spent with my mom. In the car in the middle of the night, bags in the backseat, the air thick with words that need to be spoken. But neither of us says them, the next few hours driven in silence.

The house is dark whenDane parks next to the rock garden. He follows me onto the porch with two boxes and our bags, and I balance one, unlocking the door. I use my phone to light the way to my room, and while he goes for my other two boxes, I find sheets to make the bed. Before he comes back, I shut myself in the bathroom. I’m exhausted—physically, emotionally—but I unpack what I can from the box I brought in and my travel bag.

Stalling at its finest.

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