Page 283 of Don't Tell (Don't 1)

“Greer found it. Not me.”

He turned to face me. “The roommate who is never here?”

“That’s her.”

He nodded. “Seems like that would be a good thing. You have the place to yourself most of the time.”

“It can be quiet.” I didn’t want to open up to him about all the things I felt today. How the loneliness almost choked me when I walked into the empty apartment.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I realize it’s probably a surprise I called or showed up after disappearing for a week.”

I stopped him before he embarrassed me. “You didn’t make any promises or break any plans. You don’t need to apologize.”

He moved closer and I felt the tingles zing through me.

“Actually, I do.”

I didn’t know if I had the energy for this now. It was one more layer of emotion and confusion on top of a heart-wrenching day.

“I was called out of town for work, and I thought I’d be back and be able to call, but it didn’t turn out that way. I was in meetings. The time zone change didn’t help and when I could call I knew you were asleep.”

“Time zone? Where were you?”

“Germany. It was supposed to be a two-day thing but it turned into a full week. I would have emailed, but we never exchanged that. I’m sorry. I feel like a

n ass for not telling you ahead of time. I’m not good with spur of the moment planning.”

I looked into his eyes. “You were in Germany all week?”

He nodded. “Yeah, dick move on my part. After that night at the memorial, I had every intention of asking you out for the weekend. Dinner. A movie. Something. But I was on a plane the next morning at six.”

I crossed my arms, daring myself to accept his excuse.

“When I heard your voice on the phone I thought I just better come over. You didn’t sound like yourself.”

“I-I don’t know, Vaughn. My life is chaos right now. Complete chaos.”

I’d heard stories like this before. It echoed ones of lost cell phones, or grandmothers who had suddenly fallen ill. I didn’t know why he would make it up, I didn’t care. I had to take care of myself.

“I brought you something.” He jogged back inside and returned with a box.

I looked at him, stunned. “What is it?”

“Not much, but I’m hoping you’ll forgive me and let me take you out.”

I peeled back the gold paper and stared at the writing in German on the front of the box.

“Each chocolate is full of a liquor shot,” he explained. “I thought it might be fun. And you like chocolate.”

I stared at him. Was I wrong? Had he actually gone to Germany on an emergency trip? Was I so burned from terrible men that I pegged a good one as bad? Holy shit. My radar had malfunctioned.

“Thank you.” I looked at him. He moved in closer and I stiffened.

Not because I was afraid of him, but because I was afraid of myself. How I reacted when he was near. I was drawn to him. Pulled to him. It was inexplicable and undeniable.

“Vaughn, I-I don’t want you to have to tell me where you go or where you’ve been. We’re not even … it was one date, right?” I tried to back pedal all the things I had thought and felt the week he had been missing.

I didn’t want him to know how often I checked my phone, or looked for him when I was on the Metro. Because that made me sound like a love-struck girl with a high school crush. And nothing about what I felt when I was around him seemed childish or small. That was what was so terrifying. It had felt real and whole in an instant. Faster than anything had before.

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