Page 59 of Leah

Shakily, I turned my phone off and shoved it into my pocket, determined to erect the walls he’d effortlessly smashed last night.

I didn’t end up going back to the Myers.

I didn’t think of it as hiding—rather, I was protecting myself.

Carter

She was trying to shut me out.

I buried my face into my hands, breathing slowly as the hours ticked by. Every minute felt stretched. I could physically feel the seconds, could feel the present turning into a past that I had no control over.

She did not come, and I—

I was deprived of my Leah.

I let out a shuddering breath, feeling defeated.

I knew I needed to go. We had obligations, and Leah had her own life. I couldn’t expect her to drop everything for me. One time she would have, but not anymore. The sensible thing would be to leave her be.

But I…

I was not a sensible man.

Seventeen

Leah

They were probably gone, and that was okay.

I didn’t need another awkward dinner, anyway.

I got dressed for work the next morning, my movements slow, contemplative. I’d barely eaten, and my stomach was gnawing at me.

I did my make-up, unable to peer into my own damn eyes because I was not liking what I was seeing. He was gone all over again, and I was so damn sad.

“When will this stop?” I asked myself, pleading for a moment of respite.

I’d worked so hard to minimize these emotions, and I was swamped in them all over again. It frustrated me to have someone affect me in this way. I had given Carter too much power over my feelings, and I was unable to regain it, or maybe he was unwilling to relinquish that power and leave me be.

But if he didn’t want to leave me be, wouldn’t he have showed up at my door? Anyone could have told him where I lived. Hell, Rome even knew.

I wasn’t going to lie. I had strained my ears all night, listening to every sound, wondering—maybe even hoping—he’d show up.

That was silly of me.

He was a rockstar now, and I was still…Leah.

I snuck out of the apartment when Melanie was in the bathroom. I didn’t want to face her. I’d gone straight to bed when I got home last night, and she hadn’t come back until later anyway. She didn’t check up on me even though she’d blasted that many texts my way to ward me away from Carter. Either she knew I needed space, or she was going through her own thing, too.

I had a feeling Rome was tormenting her in the same way Carter was me.

Weren’t we such sad souls?

I wondered how many people out there were still hung up on their ex-lovers, and did they find the secret to healing?

Or were we destined to live in perpetual grief, reminded constantly of a past that did not want to be forgotten?

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