Page 204 of Did They Break You

I open my mouth, only to close it again. I have no idea what to say.

“Why don’t you come over to Asa’s until they sort this out? I talked to our RA, she said they’ll assign us a temporary dorm tomorrow morning if we could find a place to stay tonight.”

No.

No.

“We can talk more about this, yeah, Rems?”

No.

I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to stay at Asa’s. I want Cortland.Tell me it isn’t true, Cort.

Sloane reaches out for me, but I twist away at her touch. So many memories ringing in my head, I don’t know which one to grab. I don’t even know who Cortland is anymore, so hot and cold,does he care at all?

“I think I’m just going to crash at a hotel,” I lie to Sloane.

She immediately looks to my arms. “Rems, I don’t think that’s such a good?—”

“I’ll be fine, Sloane.” I hear the bite in my own words but I can’t stop it. I feel cornered, and despite what she said, she doesn’t understand.

How could she?

She closes her eyes a second, then nods. “Okay,” she finally says. “Okay.” She swallows, looking at the ground. “Can you just text me in the morning?”

My stomach twists into knots with those words. I know this past year has been hard for her. Tiptoeing around what happened. Never knowing what to say. How to act. What to ask me, if anything at all.

But she’s really tried.

I know that. But something must be wrong with my brain because even her love hasn’t saved me from thinking about him. Lately, obsessing over him.

Something is wrong with me.

But I don’t have the strength to do a goddamn thing about it.

“Yeah,” I tell her, and I mean it. It’s the least I could do. “Of course.”

She nods once, her eyes searching mine. Then she turns around and walks to her Altima, parked a few rows in front of my Corolla.

I don’t dare look at Cortland as I slip behind the wheel of my own car. And I wait until she’s left the parking lot to turn the ignition.

When I pull out, headed to Cortland and Storm’s house, he’s right behind me.

CHAPTER

FIFTY-SIX

REMI

“I’m sorry.”Those are the first words out of his mouth.

I pulled in behind him, and I saw Storm’s WRX in the driveway, too, the porch light on.

Cortland is leaning against his truck, and I’m standing at the hood of my car.

“Thanks for calling me,” I tell him, my words clinical.

He looks down, his keys fisted in one hand. He’s wearing a gray sweater over a white, collared shirt, and black jeans. “Remi.” He takes a breath. “I’m sorry about last night?—”

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