Page 71 of The Fangirl and the Grump

Pressley: Not a word. It’s been two days. Has Trace?

Willow: Nope. Stubborn fucker. Maybe we need to organize an intervention.

Pressley: I’m not sure that will work. We don’t want to make things worse.

Willow: They need to talk. I know whatever this is could be worked out if they’d just communicate.

Pressley: But what’s the point? She’s still planning on leaving in a few weeks, and it would be over anyway, right?

Willow: I guess. But I still don’t like the way things are.

Pressley: Me neither. But they’re both adults. We need to let them work this out on their own.

Willow: Easier said than done. Trace has been even grumpier than he was before he met her, and that’s saying a lot. He’s trying my damn patience on the daily.

Pressley: Hang in there. I’ll try again to get Keegan to tell me what happened, then maybe I can get her out of the house. Sorry she kind of left you in the lurch at the shop.

Willow: I can handle it. And good luck with that. Maybe if she talks about it, she’ll start to feel better.

Pressley: Fingers crossed!

* * *

Willow:Just checking in. It’s been 5 days, and I haven’t heard from you at all, other than that bland, impersonal resignation email you sent. I know Pressley headed back to Seattle, and I hate that you’re cooped up all alone out there.

Willow: Keegan!

Willow: That’s it. If you won’t tell me what happened, I’ll beat it out of my stupid brother.

ChapterThirty-Two

Trace

Ihaven’t spoken to Keegan all week, and I’m exhausted from pretending it doesn’t bother me. The walls have been closing in on me as I replay that whole scene in the bathroom over and over in my head, trying to reassure myself I was right to end things.

It’s not working.

I was a total ass to her. She was sloppy drunk, and I wouldn’t have engaged in anything sexual with her in that state, but I didn’t have to be such a prick about it. I know this. I accept my culpability in the current state of things between us.

But I was all up in my head even before I went over there that night, obsessing over our last night together and how it felt so final. I’d spent hour after hour trying to convince myself it was no big deal. That she was leaving town, anyway.

That I really needed to remember our deal and squash any feelings that may have been blooming for the curvy little spitfire.

Then I walked in and saw her in those cute tiny pajamas with pink cheeks and that ridiculously sloppy-drunk grin, and my heart cracked under the pressure. In that moment, Iknew.

I was falling for her.Hard.

That epiphany scared the shit out me, so I used her behavior as an excuse to lash out. I didn’t give a shit that she spilled her drink on me or called me “Wolf Daddy.” I’m not hating the moniker nearly as much as I used to, especially coming from Keegan. I wasn’t frustrated with her at all, really.

I was frustrated with myself and my stupidfeelings.

So, when she tried to fool around with me in the bathroom, instead of gently disengaging and putting her to bed,alone, I dumped all my fear and anger on her. I said things I knew would sever whatever bond we had, then I walked out.

I hate myself for it.

But I also know it was the right thing to do.

She’s leaving soon. Things between us were always going to end. Delaying the inevitable would only serve to hurt us both more than we already have. We needed a clean break, and I made it happen.

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