Leah Mitchell isn't the same shy, poor girl anymore. Now a college student, she is enjoying her life in the city and the freedom she longed for. She works hard and knows her worth. She has it all, but her heart aches for the only person from her pas...
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It kills me.
Another guy calling her baby. Another guy, not me, kissing her cheek and holding her hand.
Nothing she could say would have hurt me that deeply, but seeing him with her in that room is unbearable.
It's the price I have to pay for my mistakes. My decisions pushed her toward another guy. It would have been much easier if he didn't care. I wish he were an asshole who didn't deserve her and couldn't make her happy.
I exit Leah's room, struggling to keep my cool, barely keeping the anger and frustration at bay.
I press my forehead to the cold wall in the hallway and count to ten, taking deep breaths.
Then, I leave because I can't risk hearing another term of endearment or seeing her kiss him.
I take the subway and spend the journey lost in my thoughts. Right until today, I'd been hopeful. I thought that a talk and apologies, begging and groveling would make Leah see that I cared.
I wanted her to realize that the guy she used to date changed. Grew up. Stopped being stubborn and finally made decisions that were good for him. He spent months away and came back to her being someone better.
It kills me to think that I am late, but that's the truth I have to face. Leah was vulnerable last night, and I was near. I gave her comfort and kept her company, and that was it.
It was there in her eyes this morning — the fear. She feared I would tell Nash about us and that kiss we shared last night, but I didn't. I couldn't, and I wouldn't.
I have no right to meddle. I am the one who got away, the one who left her and let her down, broke her heart, and made her suffer.
The short walk home does very little to calm me down. As I let myself into the apartment, I am met with the sight of Bast on the couch in the living room. Notebooks and papers cover the coffee table in front of him. He's holding a piece of paper in his hands and frowns at it. A pen is tucked behind the guy's ear.
"Hey," I say loudly, kicking off my sneakers.
Bast looks up from the page he was perusing and gives me a barely-there smile. "Hey, man. What's up?"
"I was at the hospital," I say, plopping down next to Bast on the couch. "Leah had an accident."
Bast's eyes widen. "Shit."
"Shit indeed. She fell off her Harley. Luckily, the damage is minimal." I pause deliberately and look at my hands before saying, "Nash is there with her."
"Does he know?"
I shake my head.
"Fuck," Bast curses and puts the piece of paper aside to look at me. "You need to tell him."
