from the open car windows and loud noise of passing traffic aren’t there to distract me any longer. It hurts. To breathe. To not think. To not cry.
I walk in the door and stop dead in my tracks when I see Easton at the bottom of the stairs. Through teary eyes that I can no longer hold off, I see his expression morph from surprise to concern in a heartbeat when he sees my face.
Not anger. Not accusation. Just worry.
But not having the energy to hash out the turmoil boiling me alive from everything that’s happened, I gently brush past him and enter my room, locking the door behind me.
I hear his footsteps.
I hear the knock.
But I don’t answer.
I text my parents.
Me: Are you still picking up Ainsley and bringing her to your house for the night?
Mom: Yes. We’ll have her back to you tomorrow afternoon. Your father bought her new movies to watch.
Me: Thank you
Shutting off my phone, I toe out of my shoes and strip down until I’m just in my underwear before crawling under my blankets. I let the first tear fall into my pillow and soak into the worn cotton, falling asleep as the rest follow suit in endless streams.
When I get up the next morning, I open my door to find Easton’s slumped form sleeping against the wall right outside. His long legs are spread out in front of him, his arms crossed loosely on his chest, and his lips parted as he snores softly without knowing I’m staring.
My throat closes from the swarm of emotion as I watch the man who’s ignored me for weeks sleep there like my protector, and that’s when I know for sure.
God, I’ve always known.
Chapter Thirty
The coffee mug in my hand steams as I stare at the black liquid filling it to the rim. I’m so focused on it that I don’t hear anybody walk into the room until a husky voice says my name.
Blinking up at my roommate, I see him watching me with pinched brows where I sit at the island. A raw bagel sits on the counter in front of me that he trails his focus to. “You haven’t had your coffee yet.” He walks over and grabs the bagel, splitting it in half and popping it into the toaster. Picking up the butter in silent question, I nod my head and watch him grab a knife from the drawer to spread it with.
“You slept outside my room,” I answer quietly, setting my cup down without taking a sip. It’s not too hot. It’s the exact temperature I always drink it, but I can’t think about caffeine when I keep remembering the way his body slept feet away from me in the cold hallway.
His back stays turned to me as he waits for the toaster to pop up with my breakfast. He grabs a plate from the cabinet and sets it in front of him. “You were upset.”
Rubbing my lips together, I will him to look at me. He doesn’t. He grabs the bagel as soon as it comes up and butters both sides, taking his time. When he brings the plate over to me, he tips his chin and grabs the carton of eggs from the fridge.
“Is that all you’re eating?” he asks.
Are we really not going to talk about what happened? Ignoring the food and drink ready to be consumed, I lean back on my stool. “You called me crazy.”
He stops what he’s doing, staring at the eggs that are opened by the stove. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I’m not crazy.”
“I know.” Grabbing a frying pan, he places it over the burner and flicks the knob on. Once a couple eggs are broken in it and begin sizzling, he loosens a sigh. “Jay hates it when I bake. He barely even cooks for himself. Guy buys premade food and neglects his kitchen.”
Hands twitching in my lap, I try thinking of how to start the kind of conversation worth having with him. “I don’t want to talk about Jay right now, Easton. Can’t we talk about what happened?”
He flips the eggs, not saying anything right away. I wait for him to be the one to respond, letting my food grow cold as he waits for his breakfast to finish cooking. It isn’t until he’s seated across from me when he meets my eyes and I notice how tired he looks. Something tells me it’s from more than just poor sleep outside my room. “I didn’t