In the same way I looked at Reed.
Reed chugged down a bottle of water as the woman gathered her purse, sent me a bright smile, then disappeared out the entrance. The sound of the door clapping shut was like a metaphorical door closing on my fantastical daydreams.
There was a dark, solemn look in his eyes that had anxiety swirling in my gut.
Is this it?
Was he going to point a pistol at my chest and pull the trigger?
I bit my lip as he stared across the room at me. “Hey,” I greeted, my voice already strewn with bullet holes.
“Hey.” Capping the water bottle, he set it down beside him and flipped off a few of the lights, until only a dim glow bathed the room. “Thanks for meeting with me.”
“So formal.” I chuckled, not knowing what else to say or do. Folding my arms, I sauntered over to him. We met in the middle of the studio, and I kicked off my sneakers, toeing them aside and stepping onto the mat. “What did you want to talk about?”
“You. Us.”
My face flamed with premature heartbreak. “I figured as much.”
He wore a mask.
Stony eyes stared back at me as if he’d doused himself in concrete, and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling. I couldn’t read him. Even a scalpel wouldn’t chip away the veil.
“Listen, Halley,” he continued, planting his hands on his hips. Dark hair glinted under the lone light, still damp with sweat. “This is hard, so I want to make this quick.”
I swallowed, the anxiety growing toothed wings. “Quick?”
A drumbeat pounded between us.
A sharp inhale.
And then…
“I’m moving back to Charleston.”
I blanched.
My lungs shriveled up, and my heart slammed to a full stop so long I feared it would never rev back to life. It felt like he’d taken his wet concrete and poured it all over me until I was sealed up tight, buried alive, and gasping for breath.
“What?” I whispered.
“It’s for the best.”
“For whom?”
He didn’t even blink. “For all of us.”
My arms hung defeatedly at my sides as I broke our stare and gazed at the sterile wall behind him. Shock infected me. I wasn’t emotionless, but I was frozen. There was no argument I could throw back at him, because every logical part of me knew this wasn’t going anywhere.
It was smart for him to leave before we dug ourselves two side-by-side graves.
And yet the tears still came in the form of hot, fiery pressure scorching my eyes. “I don’t know what to say.”
Reed exhaled through his nose, nostrils flaring. The only sign that he was marginally affected by this. “There’s nothing to say. It’s done. I’m staying with a friend while I get back on my feet. I’ll be in charge of the studio again, training Scotty as an assistant coach.”
“Does Tara know?” I croaked out. “Whitney?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”