Coming Home

The back and forth, the push and pull, the mixed signals—she had thought they were past all that after their conversation last weekend, but apparently that wasn’t the case. And she valued herself too much to be treated that way, even if she knew it wasn’t coming from someplace malicious. She wouldn’t allow herself to settle for something less than what she wanted, or to wait around hoping for something she might never get.

Life was too short, and she’d already wasted so much time.

Holly had been right; she had gone too fast with Da

Leah kicked off her shoes and pulled the blanket up over herself, not even bothering to change out of her clothes.

She knew what it felt like to care about him, what it felt like to want him so badly it erased all rational thought from her mind.

And as she closed her eyes, she began dreading what it would feel like to miss him.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

Da

It was bad enough to look up a girl’s address online, but to do it so he could show up at her place uninvited? It didn’t get much creepier than that.

He ran both hands down his face as he exhaled, because in the past twenty-four hours, he’d managed to be both a tease and an asshole, so creep wasn’t really that far of a stretch.

He had texted her twice last night after his initial apology, once asking her to let him know she made it home okay, and the other a few hours later, asking if he could call her in the morning so they could talk. She hadn’t answered either one, and he’d gotten the worst sleep of his life because of it.

He just wanted to explain what had happened the night before. Even if she decided she never wanted to speak to him again, she still deserved an explanation.

He’d already had plans to go in to work late that morning, but now he was debating going in at all. It wasn’t just the fact that he was exhausted—he could work through that. It was because he was completely miserable, and he didn’t feel like dealing with Jake or Tommy or anyone else who would try to get to the bottom of what was up with him.

Instead, he spent the morning lying on his couch, ru

Hindsight was a stupid motherfucking asshole.

At around ten o’clock, his phone went off with a text message, and despite the hours he spent warning himself not to get his hopes up, he couldn’t help but feel defeated when he read her words. She told him she wasn’t mad at him, but she just needed some space—that it would be best for both of them if they took a break for a while.

As much as it killed him to do it, at first he complied. He didn’t text her back, figuring that after disrespecting her the night before, the least he could do was respect her wishes now. After all, she didn’t say it was over; she just said she wanted some distance for a while.

But the problem was, he didn’t know if he had a while to give her.

Which ironically brought him full circle, because that was exactly why he shouldn’t have started anything with her in the first place. It was as if the universe was sending him a reminder: Hey, asshole, you should have left her alone to begin with, but since you apparently have no self-control, I’m making the decision for you.

About an hour later, he finally decided to get up and go to work; he needed a distraction, and working in the garage was something that always succeeded in clearing his head.

But when Da

Did she realize she’d left it there? She hadn’t mentioned it in her text. But then again, her text wasn’t exactly conversational. Should he message her and tell her he had it? Or would she think he was just making a pathetic attempt at trying to speak to her? Although, how could it be a pathetic attempt if the jacket really was at his place?

Da

He couldn’t do this—this overanalyzing every fucking thing until his head was spi

And just like that, his decision was made. There was an easy solution to both of those problems.

He was going to go to her. He would give her back the coat, and he would tell her everything. Not just why he did what he did last night.

Everything.

He was going to lay all his cards out on the table and deal with the consequences, and if her desire for a temporary break turned permanent, well then, wasn’t that what he had been expecting from the begi

So he looked up her address. And then he sat on his couch, staring at the floor with the piece of paper in his hand and a lump of foreboding in his stomach.

He’d never had to tell anyone what he was about to tell her. The people who were important to him already knew, and those who weren’t read about it or heard about it second or third or fourth hand. But he’d never had to say the words—and he knew that somehow, saying them to her was going to make it a thousand times harder.

He pushed off the couch and walked toward the front door, grabbing her coat and his keys before he made his way downstairs. After programming her address into his GPS, he turned the radio off and started driving.

Da

By the time he was walking up the small pathway to her front door, his anxiety had transitioned into a sense of urgency; he just wanted to get it over with and deal with the end result, whatever it might be.

Da

The silence wore on, and for a second he thought she wouldn’t open the door. But then he heard the deadbolt slide back before she pulled the door open slightly, and he raised his eyes to hers.

Her expression was smooth as she looked at him.

Guarded.

“What are you doing here?” she asked softly.

Da

“Thanks,” she said, reaching to take it from him, and he handed it over before shoving both hands in his pockets.

“I’m ready to tell you everything, Leah.”

The tiniest flicker of surprise flashed across her face before she composed her expression again, folding her jacket over her arm.

“I know I don’t deserve it,” he said, “but just hear me out. After that, if you want nothing to do with me, I promise I won’t ever bother you again.”