Page 66 of North

I tossed my bag onto my bed and let out a long breath. The room was exactly the same as when I left it. The same boring furniture, the same creaky bed frame, the same slightly-too-cold air conditioning.

But it felt different. Or maybe I was different.

I sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at my hands.

I had done it.

I had left.

So why did I still feel like I was waiting for the other shoe to drop?

It wasn’t easy, but I got back into a routine that made the days go by faster. Class. Work. Sleep. Repeat. I ignored every single call from Mark, Mom, and North. Evie sent texts every other day, asking if I was okay and if I needed anything. I never responded, but I read every single one.

Sometimes, I almost answered. When I felt like I had the energy for it. We planned to meet up and discuss things, but I kept putting it off. Because the second I let even one of them back in, I knew I’d unravel completely. So I kept going.

I got a job at a café down the street, spending my nights scrubbing countertops and pouring drinks for students who weren’t running from their pasts. I told myself I was fine. That I was moving on. That I wasn’t waiting for him. That I wasn’t waiting for the inevitable moment when he would come for me. Because I knew he would.

North didn’t let things go. Even when he should. Even when I needed him to. And then, just when I started to believe that maybe—just maybe— he wasn’t coming after all… I woke up to his lips on mine.

Warm. Wet. Familiar.

Unmistakable, and yet I was so bone-tired that it actually felt like another one of the wet dreams that had been haunting me.

My body reacted before my brain did. My lips parted slightly, a soft sound slipping from my throat before my mind finally caught up. And the second it did, rage exploded inside of me.

I shoved at his chest, my hands meeting solid muscle, my breath catching as I scrambled backward.

My sheets tangled around my legs, my heart slamming against my ribs.

North.

He was standing beside my bed, his face shadowed in the dim light, his breathing heavy while I stared at him, wild-eyed, furious. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

He didn’t flinch. Didn’t even blink. He just looked at me. And he looked wrecked. Guess the past few weeks were just as difficult for him as they were for me. His hoodie was wrinkled, his hair a mess, and his jaw clenched so tight I could see the tension in his neck.

“You left.”

His voice was rough. Accusatory. Like I had wronged him. Like he wasn’t the one who had spent weeks tearing me apart. My pulse pounded in my ears, my skin still burning from the feel of his lips.

I forced a breath through my teeth, my hands trembling. “Yeah,” I said, my voice hoarse. “I did.”

His nostrils flared, his body vibrating with tension. Like he was barely holding himself back. Like if I so much as said the wrong thing, he would snap.

I wanted him to. I was scared and angry, and so fucking done with all the lies. But this week had been hell, and there were a few nights that I’d spent crying into my pillow, wondering if I should call him and tell him to come take me home.

No matter how much I hated him, I still wanted him.

Chapter 25

North

There was a pregnancy test in her bathroom trash can. It wasn’t even positive. It was just there—unused, unopened—but the fact that she had even bought it meant she had thought about it. About me.

About the way I came inside her over and over again, filling her so full of my cum that it was impossible not to wonder if she was carrying my baby.

And instead of facing it—facing me—she was hiding away from me. Just like she always did.

I stared at the little pink box I’d put on the counter, my jaw so tight I thought my teeth would crack. My blood ran hot, every nerve in my body vibrating with a need so overwhelming it made me dizzy. She thought she could get away from me. That she could pretend I didn’t own every part of her.

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