Page 97 of The Games We Play
Her gaze flicked from my hand to my face, searching for something. I didn’t move. Instead, I waited.
Then, with an almost imperceptible breath, she slipped her hand into mine.
For the first time in months, I felt her—slim, warm, familiar. I curled my hand around hers, cradling it, anchoring us both, and led her toward the narrow staircase that spiraled up to my apartment.
Each step felt loud in the silence, and with every beat of my heart pounding in my ears, I reminded myself to stay calm.
This was the first time Penny had been back in my space sincethatmorning.
The morning everything shattered.
Still holding her hand, I opened the apartment door, trying to keep it casual even as my pulse throbbed at the base of my throat.
My apartment looked almost the same as when she left—too much the same. Her shampoo was still in the shower. I was pretty sure one of her hair ties was still wrapped around the lamp switch by the bed. And her sweatshirt? That was tucked in the top drawer of my dresser.
Maybe I should’ve cleaned it all up. Maybe it would’ve been less complicated.
But none of this was part of any plan.
The second we stepped inside, I felt the shift in her body. Her hand tensed beneath mine, a little flicker of hesitation in her fingertips.
I turned us around and shut the door, placing my back against it to give her space to breathe. Penny stood in the middle of the living room, illuminated by a slant of moonlight pouring in through the window.
The soft glow wrapped around her like silver ribbon, tracing the outline of her dress, catching in the waves of her hair. She looked like something out of a dream.
No—my dream.
Angus’s loud and heavy footsteps came casually walking toward us. Penny let a soft smile form on her lips as she crouched down and coaxed him to come closer. His tail wagged fast, and excitement bubbled as he picked up speed and trotted over to her.
I stood back and watched them interact. He’d missed her.
Many mornings were spent while the three of us lay in bed, often Angus between. With his size, he had no business being in my bed, but I found it hard to deny a face like that.
“What are you feeding him?” Penny asked, looking at me with a smirk. “He looks like he’s gained like ten pounds since I last saw him.”
“I’ll have you know, the vet thinks his weight is perfect. Angus panicked a little when I told him we’d have to cut back on his nightly ice cream, but that ended up being a false alarm.”
Penny gasped, and I winked, taking a step closer and patting Angus on the head. “Come on, buddy.” I moved toward the bed to slide the door to my bedroom closed to keep him away.
If I let him, he’d soak up every ounce of Penny, and right now I wanted the time to myself.
Angus huffed and followed with a groan, and once he was settled, I slid the door closed.
Like she was seeing my apartment again for the first time, Penny’s eyes scanned the room slowly. She took in the little dining room table we’d spent nights laughing at, the scuffed floorboards she’d walk across barefoot, the bed we’d been wrapped in time and time again. The blanket was the same. I hadn’t washed it. I couldn’t.
“You didn’t change anything,” she said softly.
“No.” I paused, watching the rise and fall of her chest. “Didn’t want to.”
She looked back at me then, her gaze catching mine like a hook. There was something in her eyes that broke me open a little—recognition, sadness, warmth… maybe even longing.
“It’s weird,” she whispered, “how familiar this all still feels.”
Stepping forward, I closed the space between us, one slow footstep in front of the other.
I reached for her hand again, this time bringing it to my chest so she could feel the way my heart pounded. Her fingers curled slightly over the fabric of my shirt.
“I miss this,” I said, voice low. “I missyou.”
