Page 42 of The Lilac River

"Shit, sorry," I barked, reaching to steady her.

Her hand went to my chest on instinct, her warm fingers branding me through the thin cotton of my shirt. The second she realized it was me, she stiffened, snatching her hand back like she'd touched fire.

Our eyes locked, and the air went heavy. When her gaze moved over my shoulder to the door, anger swelled.

"Hoping for someone to come save you?" I said bitterly, my voice rougher than I intended.

She took a slow breath, shoulders rising. "Like I’d need saving."

"So, you’re not following me?" I scoffed, trying to keep my heart from pounding out of my ribs.

"No! I need to pee, why else would I be back here?"

"Maybe you wanted to say sorry again."

Her chest rose and fell, breath shaky. "I don’t know what else you want me to say, Nash. Maybe I should have taken the time to leave a note or?—"

"You think so?" My voice cracked like a whip. The hurt hit fast and hard. "A note? You think a note would have been okay to end us?"

I couldn’t look at her without wanting to touch her. I couldn’t speak without the pain bubbling up and spilling over.

She folded her arms across her chest, jutting out a hip like she was steeling herself. It only made me angrier.

"You think maybe you should have talked to me?" I stabbed a thumb against my chest, breath hitching. "I deserved a conversation, Lila. At the very least."

She stepped away, looked up at the ceiling like it held answers. Then she stepped right back into my space.

"I know," she whispered. "And if I could go back and do things differently, I would. But I can’t, Nash. All I can do is say sorry and tell you that I left because?—"

"Yeah, I know," I snapped. "I read the note you left for your mom. You didn’t want to be tied down and thought we were too serious too young."

I swallowed the emotion threatening to choke me.

"You come back here and think sorry is enough. Well, it’s not. So why don’t you and your husband just fuck off back to wherever you came from."

The pain was too much. My only weapon was spite.

She blinked. Once. Twice. Then narrowed her eyes.

"He’s a school principal, if you must know."

"Wow. Didn’t you aim high. That how you got your job? Fuck the principal?"

She gasped like I’d slapped her. "You absolute bastard."

"Whatever. Just go home to him."

I moved to step around her, but she grabbed my arm. Her grip was strong, shaking.

"No. You don’t get to just say that and walk away."

"What, like you did?"

"I’ll keep repeating it, Nash. I’m sorry. I truly am. If I could go back, I’d do everything differently."

"Yeah. You said you’d leave a note. How kind of you."

Her head dropped back, frustrated. My eyes dropped to her throat, and I hated how my body reacted: hot, desperate, raw.

---