Page 57 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

As I round the corner onto my street, my heels dig into the ground, and I stop short.

My car is sitting in the driveway. It’s parked next to Colt’s black truck. I’d been meaning to drop it off at Logan’s house, but since I’ve been avoiding anything and everything to do with the Taylor House––and everyone who lives there––I hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

Apparently, a certain someone decided to take the situation into his own hands.

Great.

Squeezing the straps on my backpack, I trudge up the steps to the porch and push open the front door as dread fills my system.

Please don’t be here. Please don’t be here, I silently pray to whatever god might be listening.

My heart plummets to my stomach.

“Hey!” Mia calls from the couch as The Office flickers on the television screen behind her.

My attention darts to Colt on the cushion next to her. I can’t stop myself. He looks tense. Wary. Like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t.

With a fake-ass smile, I close the front door behind me and reply, “Hey guys.”

“How was class?” Mia asks.

“Fine.” I slip off my backpack and grab the handle on top of it, letting the weight ground me.

“Colt returned your car,” she adds.

“Saw it.” I pause, glance at Colt, and drop my gaze to the ground. “Thanks. I’m, uh, gonna…leave you two alone. So…yeah.”

Without a backward glance, I head down the hall toward my bedroom, anxious to get the hell out of there. When I reach my bedroom, the backpack slips from my fingers and falls to the floor next to the door with a heavy thud.

Knowing Colt’s dating Mia and seeing it firsthand are two very different things. At least they weren’t kissing, right? I mean, I’m sure they have. Honestly, they’ve probably done a lot more––Mia isn’t exactly a nun. It’s good, right? That I didn’t walk in anything too scarring.

And I’m happy for them. I’m happy they’re happy and are getting along, and––dammit!

I rub at my sternum, trying to ease the ache in my chest as I collapse onto the side of my bed and close my eyes.

Shit, it hurts.

It shouldn’t, though. I shouldn’t care. So, why the hell do I?

A quiet knock makes my head snap up, and I drop my hand to my lap as if I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t. You know, like licking my wounds when I definitely shouldn’t have any in the first place.

Colt’s leaning against the doorjamb. Watching me, though I can’t read his expression.

“Can I help you?” I ask, my voice full of sarcasm.

“Hey,” he mutters, scratching his temple with a crooked finger.

Really? We’re gonna go with nonchalance?

No, thank you.

Cocking my head to one side, I say, “You shouldn’t have fixed my car.”

“Felt like the least I could do.”

“It wasn’t your job.”

“Didn’t need to be,” he argues.

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