Solace In The Silence ✓✓

chapter 13

BY THE TIME dawn rolled around, I was already wide awake.
Sunshine crowned the skyline, filtering through the window of Jake's bedroom, and I crouched down, cramming my toiletries back into my overnight bag.

The determination to have cleared out before there was a chance of him returning was what had forced me to haul ass out of his bed this morning. Otherwise, I was certain I could've stayed there all day, making quick work of consuming my weight in ice cream and feeling sorry for myself.

It hadn't helped that Jake's heady scent clung to his sheets, making it dangerously easy to pretend we'd spent the night wrapped up in each other. But we hadn't, and a fist tightened around my heart at the memory of last night.

A single tear slid down my cheek, and I roughly brushed it away.
Everything I'd told Jake had to be said, and judging by the strange silence that had hung between us, I think he'd needed to hear it, too.
Even though his feelings for me had to run deeper—he'd always struggled to let me in—and even though I wanted to hold onto the friendship we'd formed over the last nine years, it didn't offset the knowledge that we'd been on the threshold of saying goodbye since last year.

Knowing all the reasons why there'd been nothing left for me to do but walk away didn't change the fact that I was wading through a well of grief.
I'd bawled like a baby last night. Having never nursed a broken heart before, I'd tried to piece it back together, but the splintered fragments were rutted and stuck too deep in my chest. Instead, I'd had to put on my Big Girl Panties and accept that it wasn't going to stop hurting anytime soon.

Tossing my bag over one shoulder, I walked down the narrow hallway of Jake's apartment and checked that I'd turned off all the overhead lights.
As I was leaving, it occurred to me that this was probably the last time I'd ever be here, and my insides coiled into a complicated little knot. The elevator pinged, and the doors slowly slid open. Thankfully, it was empty, but as I stepped inside, I halted in my tracks, drawn by my reflection in the mirrors.

I winced. I looked like I'd been dragged through a hedge backward. My dark hair had spilled out of the bun I'd secured it up into last night, and unforgiving shadows had already developed underneath my eyes. Swinging my gaze away with a soft curse, I absentmindedly retied my hair off my face.

Once the elevator had begun its descent, I inhaled several steady breaths. It was barely eight in the morning, yet my head hurt like someone had drilled a nail through my temple.

The lobby was quiet with the exception of the low hum of the air-conditioning, and I kept my head down as I ducked out of the building.

I rooted around for my phone in my bag. There'd been no messages from Jake since he'd left yesterday. Disappointment surged. Then I sternly told myself that ship had sailed. I was better off investing my concerns on the real issue at hand: I was stranded here without my car.
Oh goody.

I considered calling a cab to take me back to campus, but it seemed stupid as hell to stand around waiting for one when I could speed-walk it in ten minutes. Fifteen tops.

With that thought circling around, I
coasted onto the sidewalk, my tennis shoes scuffing on the pavement.
A second later, my phone vibrated in my palm.
Maybe it was Angie finally returning my missed call. I glanced down hopefully, but my grip loosening when I spotted the caller ID.
Mom blinked on the screen.

I almost dropped my phone like it was a hot stone.
I hadn't spoken to my parents since I'd moved out here, but even when I was still living at home, our conversations usually consisted of small talk at best. I was honest enough with myself enough to admit I was mostly to blame for that.

After Elvis had died, my relationship with them changed. At first, it had brought us closer together, but eventually, I'd cracked under the strain. The fun-loving, laid-back parents I'd grown up with were now people who erred on the side of caution and sought to wrap me in cotton wool.