Page 61 of Versions Of Us

“I can’t do this.” She shakes her head in anguish.

And then she turns and bolts for the stairs, leaving me cold and empty, a pathetic mess on the kitchenette floor.

Chapter 26

KRISTEN

There’s someone else. There’s always been someone else.

There’sstillsomeone else.

Of course, it makes perfect sense. As much as I’d tried not to, over these past six months, I’d allowed myself to imagine what Henley was doing, and who he might be doing it with. But seeing him playing house with some other woman in the loft yesterday had torn open a wound I’ve been struggling to heal for so long now.

To say I was blindsided by what happened with Henley would be an understatement. I’m not even sure what did actually happen. I know that Professor Abbott would call it a textbook panic attack.

All the signs were there. The trembling of his hands, the way he struggled for breath, the rapid pounding of his heart under my palm.

I’ve never known Henley to be an anxious person. If anything, he was the opposite. Always the strong one, stubborn, independent.

I didn’t storm into Henley’s loft yesterday intent on making out with him but the way he crumpled to the ground in his tiny kitchen, so helpless and afraid, conjured up a fear I never knew existed within me. And I’d caved in a moment of weakness, lured by the warmth of his skin under my touch.

What alarms me even more is knowing that this has become a regular occurrence for him, and I can’t help being curious about why. As frustrated as I am with him for his indiscretion about his new girlfriend, I can’t deny the way my own heartrate increased at the sight of his suffering.

I keep trying to push my feelings down, to remind myself that whatever mess he got himself into is no longer my problem, but I can’t help that Alex Henley is ingrained within every fibre of my being. Caring for him is second nature to me and, unfortunately, a strange blonde woman isn’t going to change that. Apparently, him leaving me for someone else in a town four hours away isn’t either.

Call me a glutton for punishment.

I’ve seen her before, I realise. The woman from the loft. I couldn’t put my finger on it at first. But those wild, blonde waves had captured my attention the day I saw her at the Haven. And like an idiot, I’d given her that plate of pastries. I’d foolishly thought she was someone that needed help and here she was hooking up with my ex.

My phone purrs from underneath the couch cushion. I’d stuffed it under there this morning after what must have been Henley’s sixty-seventh attempt to contact me. His calls and texts have been coming for the better part of last night and this morning. Though I hate to admit it, they’re getting harder to ignore with every second.

I tap my pen anxiously on the crisp, white pages of the textbook in my lap. I’ve been sitting here on the couch for over an hour now, though I’ve long given up on absorbing any of its information. There’s no point when my mind is elsewhere.

The phone stops ringing.

I stop tapping the pen.

The phone starts ringing again.

It’s obvious he isn’t going to quit, at least not until I shut him down for good. A defeated sigh escapes me, and I toss the textbook aside. I reach one arm underneath the couch cushion, digging until I retrieve my phone.

“What do you want, Henley?”

“Kristen.” He sounds breathless as he says my name and it takes me back to that moment in his kitchen, his chest rising and falling as he fought to get air into his lungs. “I need to see you. I’m at our spot by the river. Will you meet me?”

I don’t answer him right away and his anxiety reaches a new level. “Please, Kris.”

Something heavy rolls over in my gut. Maybe it’s the psychologist-in-training in me. Maybe it’s the history we share, but I can’t ignore his pleas.

“Fine. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

I spend the next twenty minutes cursing myself for giving into him. I consider turning back around a few times, but something propels me forward, an intuitive voice, urgent and pleading, telling me that none of this makes sense.

Henley’s panic attack came on yesterday after I’d asked him where he’d been. Why would he react to my question with such fear?

And how did he become this obscure version of himself?

I zig zag through the trees down the winding path that leads to the river until I reach the clearing.

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