Page 62 of Holiday Interference
He lifts his eyes to mine. And for a moment, everything that passed between us flickers there. The want. The warmth. The aching “almost” of it all.
“You’re always safe here,” he says.
My breath catches.
Then I walk away to get dressed in my own clothes.
The thing no one tells you about safe places is that you still have to leave them.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Cal
It shouldn’t feellike this.
It shouldn’t feel like something ended when nothing official ever began.
But I still stood there behind the curtain, watching from the apartment window like a ghost, while she stepped into the back seat of a black SUV and never looked back.
She didn’t ask me to walk her down. Didn’t offer up a joke or soft dig to make the moment easier. She just smiled—polite, too polite—and said thanks for everything like we hadn’t stayed up all night tangled in each other’s limbs and laughter.
Like I didn’t put my mouth on her, my hands everywhere, my heart right on the fucking table.
And now I’m in the locker room trying to pretend that every inch of me doesn’t feel like it’s still chasing her down the damn hallway.
I swipe a hand over my jaw and drop my bag at my stall, just as Finn leans over from his locker like he’s been waiting to pounce.
“Reid,” he says, dragging out the vowel like he’s savoring it. “Why do you look like someone just ran over your puppy?”
Riley doesn’t miss a beat. “He’s got that heartbreak hangover look. Puffy eyes. Broody silence. Maybe even regret.”
“Must’ve been some snowstorm,” Finn adds with a grin. “You hole up with someone you didn’t want to let go?”
My jaw tightens. I keep my eyes on my skate laces, the same ones I’ve already tied once. “No.”
But I say it too fast. Too flat.
Finn whistles low. “Damn. That bad, huh?”
I shake my head. “Wasn’t like that.”
“Sure,” he says, not buying it for a second. “Except you look like you’re one beer away from writing a breakup song.”
Logan glances over but doesn’t say anything. Just nudges Eli, who doesn’t say anything either. But I can feel it—whatever they’re not asking, they already know the answer.
She left, and I let her.
The door shut. The elevator dinged. And just like that, she was gone.
Not mine to chase. Not mine to keep.
And still, it feels like I lost something.
“You got all quiet and moody since the snow melted,” Beau says, tugging off his hoodie. “You okay, man?”
“Fine.”
I say it sharp enough that it cuts off whatever Finn’s about to say next.
