Desolate Love

Chapter 28: Quiet Spaces

Vaughn POV

The days passed slowly in the office. Each day felt like a repeat of the last: monotonous, numbing. I kept my head down, focusing on my work. There was always something to draw, someone to meet, and an endless stream of tasks to occupy my time. But no matter how much I tried to keep busy, I couldn't escape the constant feeling that something was out of place.

Alec was quieter now. After our conversation a few days ago, he had respected the space I asked for, not approaching me unless it was absolutely necessary. Part of me appreciated the silence. The fewer interactions, the better, right? I didn't want to feel anything more than what I already had. But as much as I wanted to push him away, there was a nagging part of me that noticed his absence.

I was still angry at him. Still angry at both of them. How could I not be? They had destroyed me—both of them—yet here they were, trying to make up for it in the most inconvenient, painful ways possible. I knew better than to trust them.

But... every time I saw Alec, I felt something. A part of me that I refused to acknowledge, that I fought to suppress, began to stir. A small, almost imperceptible pull. It was irrational. It was stupid. But it was there.

I thought I'd done well at keeping it under control. Until the day I found myself standing in the break room, mindlessly tapping my pen against the table, trying not to think about anything. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the faint sound of the vending machine felt like a strange comfort, one I could almost sink into if I allowed myself to.

But I didn't have time to indulge in that kind of quiet. Not when my mind was so full of contradictions and noise.

I stared at the table, my thoughts swirling when the door opened behind me. The sound of footsteps, familiar and too close, made my heart skip a beat. I didn't need to look up to know who it was.

Alec.

I could feel his presence before I even saw him. He had a way of making the air around him feel charged, tense. And though I knew I should ignore him, I couldn't help but glance up briefly, catching his eyes for just a moment before quickly looking away.

"Vaughn," he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet weight. "We need to talk."

My pulse quickened. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but it was impossible. Alec, standing there so near, his voice drawing my attention, everything about him seemed to pull at something I thought I had locked away.

"I don't think we need to talk," I muttered, my tone defensive, my gaze fixed on the table in front of me. "What's there left to say, Alec?"

"I just... I just want to make things right," he said, taking a step closer. He didn't sit down—he stood there, hovering, like he was waiting for permission. But I wouldn't give him that.

"You can't," I shot back, finally looking up at him. "You can't make it right, Alec. You don't get to undo the past, and you sure as hell don't get to fix it by showing up now like this."

Alec flinched slightly, his expression tight. I could see the regret in his eyes, and I hated it. I hated that I could see it and still felt that aching pull.

"I know," he replied quietly. "I know I can't fix everything. I don't expect you to forgive me right now. But I... I need you to know I'm sorry, Vaughn. I need you to understand that."

I stood up abruptly, anger surging through me. "You left me, Alec," I snapped, my voice rising. "You and Toby, you both just—left me. And now you expect me to just forgive you? To forget everything?"

The silence between us grew thick, suffocating. I could feel the weight of his apology, but it didn't matter. It didn't change what had happened.

"I'm not asking for forgiveness," Alec said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I'm asking for a chance to show you that I care. That I'm not the same person I was back then."

The words hit me like a physical blow. I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to tell him it was too late. It was always too late.

"You don't get to just come in here and make everything better with some apology," I growled, turning away from him. "I've been living with the fallout of your actions for years, Alec. And now you want me to believe you've changed?"

I took a step back, feeling my chest tighten. The words I wanted to say, the anger I wanted to release, felt so close to the surface. But I couldn't. I couldn't let him see how much it hurt.

Alec's voice was quieter now, a quiet ache in the way he spoke. "I don't expect you to believe me. Not right away. But I'm trying. I'm still trying, Vaughn."

I swallowed hard, my heart thundering in my chest. "Trying doesn't fix anything. You can't just show up and think it's enough."

"It's not," Alec agreed. "But I need you to know that I am sorry. That I've been sorry for so long. And that I'll keep trying. Even if you don't want me to."

I didn't say anything in response. I couldn't. I wanted to walk away, to shut him out completely, but part of me—the part I hated most—wanted to hear him say it. Wanted to believe, just for a moment, that he meant it.

I didn't say anything as Alec lingered by the door, his eyes searching mine.

Eventually, he left, the silence that followed settling back into the room like a heavy fog. I let out a shaky breath, my hands gripping the edge of the table.

But I didn't feel any better. I didn't feel any more at peace. The space between us had only grown, and I had no idea how to bridge it.

I didn't want to forgive him. I didn't want to let him in again.

But the quiet ache in my chest said otherwise.

And I hated it.