Page 40 of Citadel

“I’m sorry.”

I make a choking sound. “You’re sorry? Well, that’s very sensitive of you.”

“I mean it. Don’t dismiss it. I hurt you by leaving. I can see that. I’m sorry. I didn’t really have a choice.”

“If you cared, you would have at least said goodbye to me. I would have understood if you’d had to leave. But that’s not what you did. You fucked me and disappeared without a word. In no world is that justifiable.”

He glances away for the first time. Clears his throat. “I wasn’t sure what to say.”

“Yeah, I get that. Because you thought I was some sort of silly girl who’d fallen hopelessly in love with you. You treated me as a stereotype instead of a real person, and you took the easy way out.”

“I didn’t—”

“Yes, you fucking did! It was easier to avoid an awkward conversation, so that’s what you chose. It was two years ago. I’m not that same girl anymore. But yes, I’m still angry with you for treating me that way.”

“I’m s—”

“I know. You’re sorry.” I take a deep breath and let it out. I feel better. Weirdly better. I’ve said what I’ve needed to say for so long. But I’m also about to burst into tears, and I don’t know why. “All is forgiven because you’re now sorry. Is that the way it’s supposed to work?”

“No. I never expected it to work that way. I wanted to see how you’re doing.” His tone is softer now. Not quite so gruff. He’s not angry anymore either.

“Well, now you’ve seen. I’m fine. Breanna and I are safe and settled. Thank you for your part in getting us here. But, like I said before, thanks is all you’re getting from me.”

“I know.” His eyes are different now. Searching my face with a mesmerizing kind of intensity. “You let your hair grow out.”

I did. I got tired of always shaving it off, no matter how much more practical that was. My hair isn’t my best feature. It’s a mess of thick auburn waves around my face. But I like how I look this way. It makes me feel like I’m not a scrawny kid anymore, always hiding in shadows.

I stare up at him, washed with a familiar wave of pleasure, attraction, security. Like this man—despite everything—is where I’m supposed to be.

He reaches out and takes a handful of my hair in his big hand. “It’s pretty.”

There’s a brief flicker of heat in his eyes, and that’s the expression that brings me to my senses. Because I want it. Still want it. But I’m not going to do that to myself again.

I step backward, gently pulling my hair out of his grip. “No. We’re not doing that again.”

“I wasn’t—”

I shake my head and roll my eyes. “Look, Cole, you’ve said you’re sorry, and I’ve had my say at last, so we can put the whole thing behind us. I wasn’t in love with you back then no matter what kind of story you concocted in your mind that made it impossible to treat me like a rational human being. But I did trust you. I trusted you back then.” I shake my head and turn away from him, glancing over my shoulder to add one more thing. “I’m not going to make that mistake again.”

* * *

Breanna has been listening from inside the house. I know because of her expression when I walk in.

She’s beaming. So proud of me.

Part of me is proud of myself. The rest feels kind of sick. I slump into a chair at the small dining table and give my sister an exhausted smile.

“You did great!” She’s speaking in a stage whisper, as if she suspects Cole is still lurking just outside. “You did it exactly right. You stood up for yourself and drew your boundaries without going overboard. I would have totally laid into him, but you did it even better.”

“Thanks.” I mean it, although my tone is rather dry. “I mean, what did he think would happen when he showed up again?”

“I have no idea. Surely he didn’t think you’d swoon over him again.”

I stiffen with a jerk. “I never swooned!”

“Sure, you didn’t.” She snickers fondly. “Hey, I don’t blame you. He isn’t exactly handsome, but the man has something going for himself. And I know you were twenty back then, but you’d had no real experience. It was basically your first crush. We’re all kind of silly about that. But you’re grown up now, and you know what you’re doing. You’re not going to put your trust in a leaver like him. We’ve done just fine without a man these past two years, haven’t we?”

I nod, shifting in discomfort but trying not to let Breanna see. The truth is the idea of Cole being a leaver—as much evidence as I have to support it—doesn’t ring any truer to me now than it did two years ago.

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