Page 81 of Finding Their Place

Swallowing hard, I tipped my head back, the wetness of my eyes hazing the sight of her bedroom ceiling. What the fuck was I going to do?

I couldn’t gather up all my things in twenty minutes. Our lives were intertwined throughout the entire apartment. And where the fuck would I go? Back east?

“Fuck that.” I stood, snatched up my sweats, blinking away tears.

Every cell in my body ached to force my way into the bathroom, fall to my knees, and beg forgiveness.

But I knew her limits, her hatred for liars and manipulators. All we’d had, the closeness we shared, and I’d landed myself in the shit house alongside her mom, exactly as I’d feared.

There would be no forgiveness, only lingering, bitter disappointment and possible depression I wouldn’t be able to find my way through.

Swallowing hard, I left her bedroom, intent on doing what she wanted.

Rather than waste gas driving around to think, I sat on a bench by the ocean and ignored the minutes, hours passing by. I was supposed to head into work at ten for the lunch hour but forgot. When I finally called in to lie about being sick, I got canned.

No point in arguing to keep a job I loathed, I hung up and slouched even farther onto the wooden plank beneath my ass.

I’d woken up in heaven and landed in hell.

The path in front of me didn’t fork—there was no goddamn road leading beyond where my feet pressed into the ground. I had no options other than returning east to live a miserable lie of a life.

Wyatt had opened the door between us, and while shit was bad, I couldn’t blame him for what had gone down that morning.

That was all me.

Or was it?

Again, I wondered what he’d had played at by instigating our fallout. If he’d planned for Haley to kick my ass to the curb so he could have her all to himself, he’d succeeded.

But he’d abandoned us without a note or message, something else he and I both knew she hated.

I straightened, rubbing my hands down my jeans as an idea flitted through my brain. Giving it further thought put weight onto my feet, and I stood. A plan formed as I returned to my car, and determination set in when I turned the key.

Teeth clenched, I drove the twenty minutes to the address Google provided me.

Wyatt’s work truck sat in his driveway, his car in the opened garage in front of it.

I parked him in, grabbed my stuffed gym bag off the back seat, and strode up the front walk like I owned the damn place. Adrenaline crashed through me, but I held steady and knocked, once more desperate and grasping at straws.

My heart pounded in my chest as my stomach twisted into knots.

I knocked again, curses rolling through my head.

He was home…had he checked out the peephole? Saw the scowl on my face? Had he spoken to Haley, patched shit up with her, and she demanded he ignore me?

“Fuck.” I clenched my free hand into a fist, clutching my bag’s strap tighter. I had nowhere else to go, didn’t even have fucking money for gas to get me back to my grandparents—

The door pulled inward.

Shirtless, shorts slung low on his hips, and water droplets over his ripped torso, Wyatt stood before me.

Regardless of my anger and anxiety, my dick took interest.

My scowl deepened.

He glanced at my bag before meeting my eyes again.

“You should have left well enough alone,” I bit out, wishing I could cast all the blame on him. “She knows I lied, and now I’m staying here until I can find another place to live.”

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