Page 12 of Connected

So easy to take her back to bed and make her forget.

So fucking easy.

She hitches the bag over her shoulder and starts for the door without ever looking back. I follow her out of the bedroom and through the massive apartment, waiting . . . hoping . . . praying she’ll turn around and change her mind. That I’ll miraculously be a man worthy of something more than the blood on his hands and sins webbed to his soul.

Fumbling, she pulls the door open and halts. Not because she’s had a change of heart, but because she collides with Rocco. Dressed in the same clothes from last night, looking even more disheveled than when I left him, he steps out of her way.

“Well, good morning to you too,” he grunts as she brushes past him.

I take another step and then another, ignoring Rocco’s perplexed expression. The elevator pings and as I reach the door, I watch her step onto it.

And just like that.

The broken girl breaks the already broken man.

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