Page 40 of Code Word
And drove.
Until I was pulling up to a familiar set of gates.
This place had been my home for the last four years, and a stab of panic shot through me.
What if he’d changed my access code?
What if I got in there and all my stuff was packed up?
What if he told me to leave for good?
I figured, then I’d know how he truly felt...
And maybe then I could walk into the fucking ocean.
I pressed in my access code and the click of the gate as it began to slide open startled me.
The nervous dread of what awaited me bubbled in my gut.
I was about to see him. I needed to see him, like I needed freaking air.
I wasn’t entirely sure of what I was about to say, but at least we’d be face-to-face and we could talk this out.
Get past this radio silence that’d been fucking killing me.
I drove slowly up to the house, parking at the front door instead of pulling into the garage.
I wasn’t sure how welcome I’d be, and I didn’t want to overstep by assuming I still had the right to park in the garage...
The front door had a security pad, but just walking in didn’t feel right either.
Because I didn’t technically live here anymore.
Well, my stuff is still here.
But he asked you to give him space.
And that dread in my belly began to boil and roll.
Fuck, I hate this.
I considered getting back in my car and leaving. I wasn’t ready to face this. I wasn’t ready to hear him tell me to go.
But I had to do something. I had to get this over with.
I had to know . . .
So I rang the doorbell. And waited. And waited.
Nothing.
So I pressed the intercom.
“Luke,” I said, having to push the air out. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Luke, it’s me. I know you said you needed some time away from me, but I need to talk to you.”
Fuck, I sounded so pitiful.
I was pitiful.
