Page 63 of The Trust We Broke
Still shaking the sleep from my eyes, I sit, and the covers fall off me. I press my palms to my eyes, willing away the spin. But there is no sign he was ever here.
He left.
Without a word.
My heart jolts. The part of me that cracked wide open by soft hands and care in the dark, slams shut again.
Maybe that’s all it was. A mercy fuck. Something born out of memory and desperation. A man called to duty, making sure his ex-wife didn’t collapse from a head injury, due to an accident he was part of.
Perhaps it was his way of absolving himself of guilt.
I drag myself out of bed and catch sight of myself in the mirror. My hair is wild enough for a bird to nest in. I try to tug my fingers through it, but that isn’t going to work.
The floor is cool as I pad to the kitchen and make a mental note to ask Quinn how the heating system works. When I get there, there is no coffee brewing, like he always used to make first thing in the morning. There are no boots by the door. His jacket is gone too.
It slams into me, then, sharp and ugly.
I imagined it. The tenderness. The quiet reverence. The way his fingers stroked my skin, like he couldn’t believe he had permission to again. Perhaps I misread everything thathappened last night, romanticized it or projected my own feelings onto it.
Maybe he just needed to get me out of his system.
Maybe it was revenge.
Hurt me like I hurt him.
I press my hand to my stomach. I need to go see a doctor, to get tested.
Again.
How I wish I’d let the words take shape in my mouth to explain to him why I left, what really happened with the divorce. And how none of it, not one single piece, was because I stopped loving him.
Now, he’s gone.
And it burns.
My eyes sting as I set the coffee to brew and then tear into one of the leftover pastries Quinn gave me. At least the apartment smells good. From the occasional clang I can hear from downstairs, Quinn must have been awake for a while, baking.
My phone is charging in the kitchen socket, and I know I didn’t do that. Dare I let my heart warm a little that he thought to do that for me?
The lock screen tells me I have two missed messages.
Zach:Feel better? Had to go. Club biz.
Then, two minutes later.
Zach:Take your pills.
My breath catches.
I stare at the words for so long, the screen dims. I wake it again, just to be sure I didn’t hallucinate.
He didn’t just leave.
He sent messages.
As he went to deal with his club, he thought of me as he left.
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