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I’d also never felt like this before.
Like I was fighting with everything I had not to be torn open, exposing truths and demons so desperate to claw their way to the surface.
I wasn’t ready for any of it.
And I wasn’t ready to be alone.
Not really alone.
And I was now. No Becca, no Luke, no Atrous.
Becca stopped at her car and frowned. “Will you be okay?”
“Yeah, of course,” I lied.
She pretended not to know that was a lie, and I pretended to smile. “Thank you for coming by today,” I said. “I wish things were different.”
I wish I were different.
“But I’m glad we can still be friends.”
“Same.” She smiled, squinting at the sun, and so help me god, she looked just like her brother.
A pang of grief ripped through me and my heart squeezed so hard I had to look away.
“Tell your mom I said hello,” I murmured. “And that I’m sorry.”
She frowned. “Can I call one of the guys for you?”
I shook my head and took a step back. “Nah. I’ll just go write a song instead of therapy, then I’ll be fine.”
She half smiled at that and got in her car and drove out. I stood there until the gate slid closed behind her, and then I stood there some more.
I didn’t want to go inside.
The house was cold and too big, and I was too alone.
But what else could I do?
I needed to get out of this house. I needed to get away from myself. And suddenly getting out of the house sounded like the best idea I’d ever had. So I pulled on my shoes, threw on a hoodie—pretty sure it was Luke’s, and I tried not to think about that—grabbed my sunglasses, wallet, phone, and keys, got into the Range Rover, and drove.
EIGHT
I wasin Santa Monica heading to Venice Beach before I even realized it. Traffic was shit, as it always was, but it made for good head-clearing time. I found some ’90s-grunge radio station and cranked the volume up.
I wasn’t any clearer on my current situation, but it helped me forget, at least.
When I was talking to Becca earlier, I was thinking maybe she had a point.
Maybe.
But on my own again, I wasn’t so sure.
Whether Luke did have feelings for me was unknown, to me, at least. Because until I heard it from him, I wouldn’t let myself believe it.
What I felt for him . . .
Was unclear.
