Page 28 of The Grumpy Roommate Gamble

FELICITY

“I can stay,” Austen offered. “Help you unpack.”

I pretended not to notice the deep concern in my bestie’s eyes. “No, you have your own stuff to deal with. But I appreciate dinner and the ice cream.”

Not that there was enough cookies and cream on earth to make this okay.

“Are you sure there’s nothing else I can do to help?”

“Actually, can you go by the house in a day or two to get the last few boxes of my stuff? I can’t face Gabe right now.” I wasn’t sure if I could face him ever again. I’d used up all my strength to get through that last little scene in the driveway without embarrassing myself by bursting into tears and begging him to change his mind.

“Of course. And if you want, I’ll send Clint to kick his ass.”

“They’re friends. I’m not going to ask you to ask him to do that.”

“They may be friends, but Clint agrees he’s being a dumbass.”

It shouldn’t have surprised me they’d been talking about us.I was sure plenty of folks would be talking about us. But I couldn’t think about that right now.

“Still, that’s not going to solve anything.”

Austen pouted. “It would make me feel better.”

I managed a rusty bark of a laugh, which had probably been her intention all along.

“Thanks for having my back.”

“Anytime, girl.”

With one last hug, I saw her on her way and shut the door.

When she was gone, I walked through the house.

I hadn’t unpacked a thing. Hadn’t been able to bring myself to, because I wasn’t sure if I could actually stay here.

Not that there was anywhere else on offer. But God, this was so hard. I used to love this house so much. Now it didn’t feel like mine anymore, and there was no way I wouldn’t think of Gabe everywhere I looked.

He’d done a beautiful job restoring things. Because of course he had. It was just really too damn bad that he couldn’t do the same for my heart. But where he’d treated my space with all the respect in the world, he’d been far more callous with my heart. Our brief relationship—not that we’d ever actually defined it as such—had hit my life like an atomic bomb, leaving nothing but a barren, devastated wasteland. I’d thought I was done with such things after my father’s death.

Apparently not.

I’d gotten through that. I’d get through this.

Somehow.

I didn’t want to do anything big tonight, but I should at least find sheets for the bed so I could fall into it and stay through the weekend. There was leftover pizza. I wouldn’t have to leave the house. Maybe by Monday I’d feel more up to dealing with reality.

I’d just finished smoothing mycomforter on the bed when someone knocked on the door. It had only been about twenty minutes since Austen left. Maybe she’d forgotten something. Or maybe she’d decided to force a sleepover, anyway. I was too tired to fight her on it, even if I wanted to be alone.

But when I opened my front door, it was Gabe on the porch.

The sight of him was a sucker punch, but I pulled the cloak of what little dignity I had left around myself and straightened, looking past him for the rest of the boxes he must have brought. “Where’s the rest of it?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t bring it. I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t,” I repeated. “Then what are you doing here?”

His face spasmed with emotion, as if he couldn’t hang on to the stoic mask anymore. “I went home, and it isn’t home anymore because you’re gone.”

---