Finally, I found my voice. "What did you want me to do? I wanted to make sure she got in the car safe."

She shook her head. "She had four other friends there. If they didn't know to look out for her, you should have asked one of them to. You should've known how that would make me feel."

The worst part is—is that she wasn't angry. She just stared straight ahead, letting the tears fall silently. She didn't raise her voice. Maybe if she was angry, it wouldn't hurt so much. She was sad, upset, disappointed.

I'd fucking disappointed her.

I caught her eyes lower to my hand on her leg. It wasn't trembling anymore; now it was all-out uncontrollably shaking. My heart beat so hard against my chest, it made my ribs ache. I waited for her to cover it, or to hold it, maybe lift it and kiss my palm like she used to. But she didn't. Instead, I removed it from her leg, shook it out twice, and sat on it, hoping it might help.

"I'm sorry," I said quietly, staring straight ahead. I vowed to spend the rest of the night telling her, and showing her, how sorry I really was.

She parked next to her car when we got to the apartment's parking garage. I stepped out of my truck, but she didn't. Walking to her side, I opened the door, and held out my hand to help her. She didn't take it, just jumped down on her own. She leaned against the car, rifling through her bag. "I think I'm just going to go home," she said quietly, refusing to look at me.

"What?" My chest ached, not from the thumping of my heart, but from the breaking of it. "Please, don't do this." I was begging. I didn't care. "I mean, I know I fucked up. And I'm sorry. It just seems so insignificant, so petty—" She finally looked up at me with her eyes wide, filled with tears. Shit. "That's not—" I sighed, trying to calm myself. "That's not what I meant. I just mean in comparison to everything we've been through—"

"Maybe," she interrupted. "But it doesn't stop it from hurting. Pain is pain regardless. And I need to feel that pain, deal with it, and I can't do that with you around. I just can't."

I sucked in a shaky breath.

She pulled out her keys and unlocked her car. I opened her door and watched as she took a seat and started it. She tried to smile up at me, but she couldn't.

Then she was gone.

I watched her taillights fade away while I hoped, prayed, begged for her to turn around and come back.

But she never did.

My hand shook against my leg. Lifting it, I inspected it closer. And then I snapped. "Fuck you," I growled. I turned around and smashed it against the side of my truck. It made the shaking worse.

***

Jake called an hour later. I was wide awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling. I hit answer but didn't speak. He sighed. "Should I come over?"

"No," I answered quickly. I didn't want to see anyone.

Lie.

There was one person, but she didn't want to see me.

"Tonight was messy," he uttered.

"Understatement."

"Is she there?"

"No."

"Shit. Is she pissed?"

"Truthfully, I don't think she's pissed. She's upset. She said she was disappointed, thought that I let Heidi disrespect her."

He laughed. "That's pretty much the exact words Kayla used."

"Yeah?"

"Yup."

"Must be a girl thing."

He laughed again. "No, dude, it's kind of what happened."

"Fuck." I knew he was right, but hearing him confirm it was like a kick in the gut.

"Yeah."

"I just wanted to make sure Heidi was okay, you know?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "I totally get it. But Heidi—she's kind of been a mess since Dylan left. The girls have tried talking to her, but she won't talk to anyone. Honestly, if I had to watch Kayla's ex try to kiss Kayla, I'd more than likely beat the shit out of him. We all saw when Amanda slapped that girl for Lucy. I'm surprised she didn't do the same to Heidi."

"Valid."

He let out another sigh. "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know."

Truth.

***

I know what I didn't do, and that was sleep. Not a wink, the entire night. I lay in bed with the curtains open and watched the darkness turn to dawn. I wanted to call her. I wanted to beg her to come back. But she wanted to get through this, and she wanted to do it alone.

I looked at the time on my phone; it'd been in my hand the entire night, waiting for her to call.

5:15.

"Dammit." I pushed the covers off stood up. At the exact same time, there was a light knocking on the door. I opened my nightstand drawer to retrieve the gun. I stared at it for a second before the knocking sounded again. It was soft, almost as if they knew how I'd react if it were any louder. I left the gun and shrugged on a shirt as I made my way to the door.

I looked through the peephole.

She stood, with her hair a mess piled on top her head, and a nervous look on her face. She appeared as bad as I felt.

Unlocking the four deadbolts seemed to take forever. Maybe it was because I was so anxious to get to her that both my hands were shaking.

When I finally got the door open, her eyes snapped up and roamed my face. Surely she'd be able to see what a mess I was. She didn't speak as she stepped inside and walked into the bedroom. I locked all the locks on the door, checking them over three times before following her in there.

She stood in the middle of the room with her hands at her sides and tears in her eyes. I took the few steps until I was right in front of her. I wanted to speak, but I mentally couldn't. She looked up at me with a pained expression on her face. A tear fell.

I hated myself.

I hated that I was the one to cause her tears. I tried to wipe it away, but my hand shook against her cheek. She held it against her face and inhaled deeply, and then blew out slowly. And then she kissed my palm. Once. Twice. By the third time, it had steadied. Then she dropped it.

Slowly, she slipped out of her dress, and lifted my shirt over my head and onto her. I watched her every move in dead silence, wanting to remember it. Savor it.

She climbed into her side of the bed, but faced the wall. I climbed in, lifted the sheets to our shoulders and snuck in close behind her. I didn't know if she wanted to be touched, or talked to, so I tentatively placed my hand on her waist. She flinched slightly, but didn't remove it. I moved in even closer, my chest plastered to her back. I wrapped my arms around her stomach and brought her in as close as possible.

Then she spoke. "Your heart's going a million miles. Did you take your Xanax?"

I sighed, relieved she was speaking. "I forgot," I told her truthfully.

"You can't do that, Logan. I felt your hand on my leg last night. You can't stop taking it."

I swallowed loudly. This wasn't the conversation I wanted to have. "Will you please turn around? I hate talking to you like this. Please?"

She shifted in the bed until we were face to face. Placing her palm against my chest, she looked up at me. "Did you sleep at all?"

I shook my head. "No. You?"