Page 9 of Concealed

And I’m so scared that I’ll never be a whole person again.

I’ll forever divide my life into Before Matt and After Matt. What’s left of me is just a shadow of who I used to be, and I’m no longer sure where I fit in. And I wish like hell that I had never even heard the name Matt Blair.

“Thanks again,” I say. “I drove here straight from Vegas without stopping, so I’m exhausted. I’m going to head to bed, and I’ll do my best to stay out of your way.”

“Don’t worry,” Wyatt returns, “you’re not in the way at all. I’ll be working a lot, so you’ll have the place to yourself pretty often.”

I want to ask what his schedule is so that I can plan to be hidden away whenever he’s around. What if he has a date with him? He certainly doesn’t need to have some random girl he doesn’t even know getting in the way of his social life.

But I can’t find the words.

I lost my voice a long time ago, and it’s so hard to take it back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Wyatt says.

God, he smells divine. Like pine, cinnamon, andman.

But if the scent of him is in my nose, he’s standing too close. I take a step back and fumble for the door handle, turning it and awkwardly backing into the room that will be mine.

“See you,” I manage, before basically closing the door in his face like the social interaction expert that I am.

Smooth, Rebecca.

Really freakin’ smooth.

The room is beachy and comfortable with seafoam green walls, white furniture, a white duvet on a queen-size bed, and pictures of seashells in thick white frames. There are California shutters on the windows that offer partial ocean views. No other units face this one, so there’s no chance someone can look inside the second floor.

Of course, that’s where my mind goes.

Broken, broken, broken.

Wyatt is piling boxes outside the door. I should open it, bring the stuff in, and thank him for everything – again. He just got here, he worked all day, and now he unexpectedly has to deal with me and my problems.

He must really like Gabe.

I should, at the very least, talk to him and get to know him a bit. Be friendly, ask questions, act normal.

Wyatt offered pizza, and I can’t remember the last time I ate something that wasn’t a granola bar or bag of chips. I should have dinner with him and be his friend. We’re living together, and it would make a difference to get along.

Should, should, should.

But I don’t do any of those things.

Instead, I sit on the bed and think about all the things I wish were different.

Chapter 3

Wyatt

IkepthopingRebeccawould come downstairs and join me for dinner, but she stayed in her room the entire night.

When I left for work this morning, her stuff was moved into the spare bedroom, so she must have waited until I was asleep. I settled for leaving a note with my number and telling her to call or text if she needs anything.

I hope she doesn’t run away before I get back home.

As I’m driving to the station, all I can think about is that whoever hurt her deserves to have the shit kicked out of him. Since that’s not how life works, he should be arrested. But something tells me that she didn’t make a police report before she ran away.

Gabe and I could press charges on her behalf – and probably should – but if we do, there’s no chance we’ll ever see her again. As soon as she finds out what we did, she’ll disappear and refuse to trust us.

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