Текст книги "The Singles"
Автор книги: Emily Snow
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Текущая страница: 29 (всего у книги 45 страниц)
Just as Wyatt promised, Cal answers on the fourth ring. After he teases me about not knowing my best friend’s number, he promises to text it to me as soon as we hang up. A moment after I hit the End button, the message comes through. “Impressive, Cal,” I say, opening the text.
It takes me approximately five seconds to figure out that the string of messages I’m staring down at isn’t from Cal, and even though I jab the Home button quickly, the last three texts between Terra and Wyatt have dug their way into my head.
6:29 p.m.: You don’t even want to know the room # in case you change your mind?
7:01 p.m.: I won’t, so let’s not waste our time. I told you the other night that it was one time. Fucking drop it.
8:42 p.m.: You know what? Go fuck yourself, Wyatt.
I hear the bathroom door ease open, and he’s talking about Your Toxic Sequel’s summer tour as he rounds the corner. My face must say it all because the moment he looks at me, his words fade away, and the color drains from his naturally tan face. Struggling to keep my breath steady, I stare into his eyes, and I repeat the question I asked him a couple nights ago, the question that I’m absolutely certain he answered with a flat-out lie.
“Did you screw Terra?”
Chapter Sixteen
He lowers his dark blue eyes to the phone that’s lying on the bed just as another text message comes through. I know that this time, it’s probably Cal getting back to me with Heidi’s number, but right now, that’s the furthest thing from my mind. Right now, I desperately need to know the truth from the man standing in front of me.
“Did you lie to me?” I ask, standing. I take a tentative step toward him and then another, feeling my heart race faster and faster with each movement. Once my bare toes hit the toe of Wyatt’s boot, I straighten my back. “Did you fuck Terra?”
Drawing his eyebrows together, he pinches his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger. I never let my gaze fall even though I want to. At last, he swallows hard, giving me a brisk nod. “Yeah, I did.”
I feel like something has collided into my chest, and I rub my hand back and forth over the center, hoping it will lessen the pain. It doesn’t. “And you’ve done it again since we came here? Since you and I have been together like this?”
Sucking in his upper lip, he shakes his head vigorously. “Absolutely not.”
“Then, why not just tell me when I asked? Why make it a big secret?” He’s had one-night stands before—and even though we weren’t a couple, all those times ripped out my heart—but this is the first time he’s lied to me. “Why didn’t you just tell me the truth when I asked?” I demand, my voice cracking.
“Because you said her name like—”
My nostrils flare, and I hold up my hand. “Like what? Like I wanted to choke her? Who gives a damn how I said her name? All I wanted was for you to tell me the truth, to be straight with me. I can handle everything else, Wyatt.” My shoulders begin to shake, and I drop my eyes to my bare feet. “When?” I ask.
“What?” he asks, his deep voice breaking.
“When did you do it?”
“Kylie, please.” He holds out his hands, wanting to touch me, but I shove them away. I ignore the dull pain in my ring finger as I wait for him to answer me. When I release a sob, he exhales. “Why would you want to put yourself through that? Why does it even matter now?”
Of course, he doesn’t understand. Maybe he never will. I take a few steps backward. “Because. You. Lied.”
He drags his hand over his face, releasing a strangled noise from the back of his throat. “The end of last year.”
I press myself against the wall for support. “Let me guess, it was a couple of weeks after Thanksgiving, huh?” His expression is blank, and I immediately realize that I’ve called it accurately. Clenching my teeth, I shake my head to each side. “You are so goddamn unbelievable, Wyatt.”
His face flushes as he takes a step toward me. “You push me away at every turn. You told me you wanted to see other people. What the—”
“You’re right,” I say, nodding my head. “You’re absolutely right. But if you still want to know why I stopped calling you after Thanksgiving...there, you’ve got your answer. I thought...” I pause and take a deep breath. “I guess you were too busy fucking Terra when I needed you.”
This time, when he reaches out to touch me, he succeeds. He draws me to his chest, not seeming to care about the pain it might cause the area where he got the bluebird tattoo last night. “What were you going to say, Ky? You thought what?” he demands.
Since we’re laying it all out on the table tonight, I glare up at him. “I thought I was pregnant. I thought that I was going to have a kid with someone who can’t even say he loves me, and I panicked.”
His grip tightens on the small of my back. “You’re not, are you?” The tone of his voice is low and dangerous, and I know he’s thinking about all the partying we’ve done over the past few days. “Are you?” he says more urgently.
I shake my head. “Do you really think I’m that stupid and selfish?” I ask. I close my eyes, squeezing them so tight that the tears have no other choice but to stay put. He releases a long exhale, but when I speak a moment later, he loses his breath once more. “Wyatt...I really can’t do this anymore.”
He clenches his jaw. “Yes, you can. I fucked up. I know that I did, but that doesn’t mean we can’t fix ourselves.” When he touches his forehead against mine, I pull away from him, pressing my back to the wall again.
“I’ve done exactly what I told you I’d do. I came here with you. I let you remind me of our past, the good and the bad. But, Wyatt, I just can’t anymore.” Each word takes an excruciating amount of effort, and I know that if we don’t end this soon, I’m going to be sick to my stomach.
“We can fix this, Ky,” he says.
I shake my head again, wiping tears from my cheeks. “We’ve been doing this for so long,” I whisper. “After Brenna and my ex and so much bullshit, it’s amazing we didn’t already give up on each other years ago. Don’t you see it? If we haven’t fixed ourselves by now, how the hell do you think we ever can?”
“I refuse to believe that.” He’s breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling against mine. “I love you, Kylie.”
The sob that I’ve been so successfully holding back finally makes its way past my throat, and I gasp. I lower my head, shaking it slowly, as my shoulders tremble. He’s dealt me the most painful blow of all, and surely, he must know that because he backs away from me slowly. When I manage to lift my gaze, the agony in his blue eyes matches the sting spreading across my chest, consuming me.
“Fuck ... I mean, you had to have known that already,” he says hoarsely.
I press my hand to my chest for a moment, pushing hard as if it will stop my heart from pounding so rapidly, as if doing so will keep me from crumbling apart. Once I’ve managed to control my tears, I say, “I have waited so goddamn long to hear you say that, and now that I have...it just hurts.” It hurts because of all times to tell me that he loves me, he picks the one moment when losing me is a certainty.
Closing his eyes, he fists his strong hands. “That’s not my intention.”
“If you say so, Wyatt,” I say in a detached voice. Rubbing the heel of my palm over my eyes to wipe away the remaining dampness from my face, I take a deep breath. “Your show starts soon.”
“It can wait.”
I think back to the day I asked him if he planned on leaving Your Toxic Sequel, and my vision blurs. “Did you lie about that, too? About quitting YTS?” His lowered blue eyes and silence is all the answer I need. “God, Wyatt...”
“I’m not,” he argues. He eases down onto the edge of the bed, darting his blue eyes over to where I’m still standing, clutching the wall. “Things were going shitty, okay? Lucas is a dick, and Sinjin’s always fucked-up. Cal and I were both thinking about bailing last year, but we changed our minds, okay? When Hazard Anthem called us about doing these shows, I figured we owed them one for leaving them high and dry.”
I fold my arms over my chest, giving him a tight smile. “You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I get it. It’s business.” I’m not going to argue with him anymore. There’s no point because I already know that I’ll have to leave.
“Will you be here when I get back tonight?”
His eyes are pleading, and I have difficulty speaking past the pain in the back of my throat.
“You already know that I won’t.”
“God, Kylie. Don’t do this,” he begs. “I’m sorry.”
“Have a good show, Wyatt,” I say softly, turning away from him.
I feel like weights are tied to my shoulders as I walk into the bathroom. I close the door behind me, lean my head against it, and start counting as I wait for him to leave. I hear the door to our room slam shut when I reach 150, and I press my fist to my mouth as sobs shake my entire body.
***
I’m packing and crying when Heidi shows up at my door an hour later. Her grin quickly fades as soon as I open the door. She doesn’t ask questions. She doesn’t try to give me advice. She simply yanks me to her, wrapping her thin arms around me.
“Is that ride back home still on the table?” I whisper.
She nods against my shoulder. “For you, babe, anything.”
Chapter Seventeen
I’m back in L.A. before the sun even rises the next morning, and I spend the rest of my weekend alone, leaving my apartment only once to go to the market around the corner. It’s not as if I’m in a catatonic state because I’m a seasoned pro at dealing with this type of bullshit, but the last thing I want is to bring someone else’s mood down with my moping around.
Later that night, I make plans with Heidi to take me to the DMV office first thing tomorrow morning.
***
When my doorbell rings at seven thirty in the morning on the dot, I’m already dressed. After brushing the tangles out of my black-and-blue hair, I fling open the door, and I’m shocked when I see my brother standing on the other side, holding a box from my favorite bakery.
“I didn’t realize you knew where I lived,” I greet him sarcastically, ignoring the way my stomach growls as I step backward to let him inside.
Ducking his head because he’s so damn tall, he comes through the doorway and makes a face at me. “Don’t look so fucking happy to see me next time.” He follows me into my den. “Brought you your favorite,” he says as he slams down into the chair at my computer desk, setting the box beside my laptop.
“Heidi’s taking me to the DMV to get a new license in a little bit, so can you make this quick?”
He grabs my phone from the desk and then rolls the chair forward until he stops right in front of me. “Call her and cancel.”
I take the phone, but instead of making the call, I cross my arms over my chest. “Lucas, I take my job very, very seriously, but it’s impossible for me to drive your ass around if I don’t have a license.”
“Cute,” he says, dragging his lips up into a strained smile. “But I’m here to take you to the DMV myself.”
I’m momentarily stunned. Being up so early is typical for my brother—he works out for a couple hours every morning—but for some reason, he’s taken it upon himself to visit me. And now, he’s offering to help me complete a tedious task that I don’t even want to do myself. Cocking my head to the side, I pull my eyebrows together. “Dude, you’re scaring the shit out of me. Is everything alright?”
His smile suddenly becomes more forced, and he leans forward, supporting his arms on his thighs. “Abso-fucking-lutely not, Kylie. I’ve made a mess of things.”
Taking the bakery box off the desk, I go to the other side of the small room and sit down on my couch. Half a dozen glazed doughnuts are in the box, and I sigh, inhaling their sweet scent. I eat two before I ask him about Sienna. “Have you talked to her?”
He squeezes his hazel eyes closed and shakes his head, dragging one of his hands through his shaggy dark hair. “You know better than I do that she’s already changed her number.”
I nod my head in acknowledgment and swallow hard, nearly choking on a piece of my doughnut. “Did you try to call her before she changed her number?”
“No. What the fuck would I say?”
“Sorry is a good start.”
He snorts. “Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover what I did to her, Kylie.” Sitting upright, he checks his watch before giving me a pointed look. “DMV opens in twenty minutes. Let’s not bullshit, so we don’t have to stick around there all day.”
“I didn’t ask you to take me,” I say in a heated voice as I pull up Heidi’s number on my iPhone.
She answers drowsily on the third ring. “Ah, shit.” She yawns, and I hear her roll over in her bed. “I worked late and forgot to set my alarm.”
“It’s okay! Lucas is here to take me to get my new license, but I’ll stop by your place tonight or something.”
My best friend is quiet for several seconds, and I imagine she’s just as stunned as I am about my brother showing up at my apartment. “Um, okay. Let me know how that one goes.”
I glimpse over at Lucas as he’s rubbing the pads of his thumbs against his temples in frustration. “It should be interesting.” After I promise Heidi that I’ll call her the moment I’m done taking care of my personal business today, I end the call.
Lucas stands up, taking his car key out of his pocket. “You done?” His voice is sardonic.
I hold back a sharp reply as I nod and close the doughnut box. “I’m ready.” As he heads to the front door, I grab my folder of paperwork from my desk and start to join him, but then I stop. I glance down at my ring finger, which has started to scab. There’s no point in me going to the DMV just to get another license that says Kylie Martin. “Hey, Lucas?” I call out.
“Yeah?”
“How long does it take to do a name change on your social security card? Is it right away?”
Even from the other room, I can hear him make a frustrated noise. “Google is your friend. Look it up yourself.” Even though he can’t see me, I glare daggers in his general direction, literally biting my tongue, as I sit behind the desk and open my laptop.
After a few minutes of research, I discover that getting a new social security card will take several days. Since I obviously can’t wait for a new license, I make myself a note, so I’ll remember to take care of the name change another day. The sooner, the better.
***
Instead of using the parking garage, Lucas has left his car on the curb, and I lift an eyebrow as we walk down the steps toward the brand new Audi. This is the first time I’ve seen it. I didn’t even realize he had bought a new car.
“Sam get you a gift with your money?” I ask.
He narrows his hazel eyes into dangerous slits. “Kylie, I swear to God—”
I climb into my seat, cutting off his threat by slamming my door. As I wait for him to get inside the car, I turn toward the driver’s seat. He’s still glaring at me when he closes his door and presses his fingertip on the push start.
“Maybe this was a bad idea,” he growls, but I shake my head. The more I think about it, Lucas randomly picking me up is a very good thing.
“No, this talk has been a long time coming. I can’t believe I waited so long before saying something, but I am now.”
In typical Lucas fashion, he automatically gets defensive. “You want to talk about Wyatt then? Since we’re sharing our feelings.”
I press my lips into a thin line. Of course, I don’t want to talk about Wyatt. It hurts like hell to even think about that man, but I know it’s something that I’ll eventually have to acknowledge. Just because he lied to me doesn’t change the fact that I still love him. Just because I walked away from him doesn’t change the fact that I’ll have to see him again when I’m working.
“Ask away,” I tell my brother, squaring my shoulders.
He pulls the Audi into traffic. “Alright. What happened?”
“Why would you assume something did?”
He gives me a hard stare. “Because he called me and wanted to know if you were okay. Apparently, I’m the go-to guy on all things Kylie Wolfe.”
My chest tightens as I run my fingers through my hair nervously. “And?”
“I lied. I told him I saw you yesterday morning, and you were the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”
For what seems like an eternity, we sit in traffic, completely silent. Once I digest what Lucas has just told me, I clear my throat. “I’m not sure if I should say thank you or be irritated.”
“Irritated because I finally stepped in and tried to do something to stop you two from hurting each other?”
“Yeah, irritated that after eight years, you’re just now showing an interest in your kid sister’s personal life.”
“You don’t think I give a shit about what’s happening with you? You’re my sister. Don’t ever think for one second that I don’t love you, you got me?” When I nod, he adds, “I just want you to be happy.”
My throat constricts, and I clench my fists. “Thanks, Lucas.” My voice is hoarse, and he turns his head slightly, giving me a sad smile, as he touches my shoulder. “I love you, too,” I say.
Even though I want nothing more right now than to stay with him in the car and talk to him about Samantha, he pulls the Audi into the DMV lot, parking the car in the farthest spot from the entrance.
“Lucas,” I say before I get out. He cocks one of his thick eyebrows. “When I’m done in here, we’re going to talk about you.”
He doesn’t move or say anything, but he doesn’t have to. I know that I’ll be able to get something out of him even if it’s not the absolute truth.
***
Since I have all the documents I need to get a new license, the whole process from start to finish takes less than an hour, which is like a miracle for the DMV. My brother looks surprised when I slide into the Audi.
He tucks his phone back into his pocket. “Let me guess, you’re missing shit?” he demands. I shake my head and flip open my wallet to show him my new card. He moves his head from side to side incredulously as he starts the car. “And I can bet money when I have to come in and get my renewal, it’ll take me all day long.”
During the short drive back to my apartment, I think of several different ways to approach the subject of Sam with Lucas. It’s so ridiculously easy to ruin my brother’s mood that I want to approach it carefully.
Then, I look at him. I study the way his shoulders sag and how his hazel eyes just seem tired. And I realize that there’s no way in hell I can ruin his day any worse than he already has.
“We’re a fucked-up pair,” I say quietly after he parks near the curb.
He releases a strangled laugh. “Yeah, we are.” He leans his head back against his headrest, inhaling and exhaling deeply. “I wanted to make things work with her so fucking bad,” he says, referring to Sienna.
I nod. “You still can, but you’re going to have to let go of whatever it is Sam’s got on you. You know that, don’t you?”
“It’s not that fucking simple.”
“Then, let me help you. Tell me what she has on you, so we can figure it out together,” I plead. He shakes his head, refusing me. “I promise I’m not going to stop loving you.” When he doesn’t reply as he stares straight ahead through the windshield, my chest clenches. “Lucas, it’s not something that will make me stop loving you,” I say again, but this time, it sounds more like a question than a statement.
He’s quiet for much longer than necessary, and when he answers me, my heart aches so much more for him. “No, it’s not, but only because it’s not in you to stop loving someone.”
Chapter Eighteen
For the next week, Wyatt calls my cell phone twice a day, once in the afternoon and then again at night. He doesn’t leave messages, and he doesn’t send texts. I’m sure he knows that I’m purposely missing his calls every time I send him straight to voice mail. It’s so hard to do that to him because each time I hit the top button on my iPhone to ignore the call, it feels like a hole is being burned into my chest.
Nine days after my return from Phoenix, my brother calls me a little after noon. “You busy?” Lucas asks the moment I pick up. He sounds out of breath, like he’s been lifting weights. Before I can answer him, he continues, “I got an email this morning about some sponsorship thing you signed me up for. Want to check into it for me?”
Lucas has been trying to keep me as busy as possible since I came home to L.A., and while I appreciate his concern, his hovering is starting to become slightly annoying. I save the letter that I’ve been writing to Sinjin. “I’m on it right now,” I say as I pull up his Gmail account.
“Call me after you figure it out, okay?”
After I promise that I will, he ends the call, and I scroll through his inbox in search of the email. I find it near the top of his message list, where he told me it would be, so I open it up and begin to read.
According to the email, the organization, which provides sports equipment to disadvantaged kids, has left a message for his assistant. Wrinkling my forehead, I bite the inside of my lip because I haven’t received any calls from them. I head to the kitchen and grab a bottle of water, and then I sit back down to do a little more research.
It’s not until I find a thread of old correspondence with the group from months ago that I realize I gave them the direct number to my apartment instead of my cell phone number. The only phone I keep in my place is located in my bedroom, and since I went the quirky novelty route when I purchased it, it’s corded. I sit on my bed with my laptop in front of me to take notes as I check the message.
Sure enough, there’s a voice mail from the organization that’s dated back to a week ago. I listen to it twice, typing down all the pertinent information I’ll need for Lucas to make a donation. I erase the message, and I’m about to hang up, but then the next voice mail automatically starts playing.
The voice on the line sends chills through my body. It’s Wyatt. For ten minutes, I find myself listening to messages he left for me while we were in New Orleans before he realized he was calling the wrong number. It isn’t until I reach the sixth voice mail that I feel as if my lungs have completely failed me.
“Do you ever pick up your goddamn phone, beautiful?” Wyatt asks in a low, sexy voice, and my breath catches painfully. “I need you to be there next week, Ky. I need to know that I’ll see you when I come to Nashville to start recording because this separation bullshit has been going on for too long. Look, I know that you’re pissed because of my last message, but I can’t help the past. I can’t change how fucked-up we’ve been to each other. I just want to make things right now.” There’s a muffled noise, and I hear Cal’s voice. Wyatt mutters something under his breath, and then he clears his throat. “Call me when you’re ready. And Kylie? I love you, okay?”
It feels like butterflies are racing though my stomach as I wrap my fingers around the cord tightly, listening carefully as the automated voice speaks the time and date. He left the message the last week of January, a couple of weeks before he found me in New Orleans. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow several times.
Saving the voice mail, I start the next, which turns out to be a telemarketer. I go through two more spam calls before I find Wyatt’s other message.
“I fucked up. I’ve fucked up, and it’s something I don’t ever want to do again. I don’t want other women. I want you. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember, and it’s going to stay that way. We need to make a decision. We’re either together or apart, but no more of this bullshit that we’ve been doing to each other for the past few years. It’s destructive, and it’s time we stop pretending like we can just be friends with benefits or whatever the hell you’re calling it now.
“I love you, Kylie. You know I have a hard time saying that, but I do. Stop ignoring my calls, stop being so afraid of getting hurt, and let’s figure this out.”
The message ends there, and I feel numb as I listen to the date and time, learning that he left this particular voice mail back in December. I slide my laptop to the other side of my bed and carefully place the phone back on the receiver, as if it will break at the slightest harsh movement. I stare at the nightstand, at the phone. And I sit in silence like I’m waiting, like I’m expecting the phone to ring at any moment.
When nothing happens and the quietness continues, I close my eyes tightly. I can almost hear Wyatt’s voice in my head, telling me over and over again that he loves me.
“I love you, too,” I finally whisper.
***
Wyatt’s messages stay in the front of my mind for the next few days, and it’s nearly impossible for me to get much done besides writing Sinjin two more letters and going to the gym with Heidi once.
When my cell phone rings on Friday afternoon and my mom’s voice comes on the line, a wave of relief washes through my body. She’s got this way of making me feel better by just saying a couple of words, and I stretch out on my sofa as I talk to her.
“You sound tired,” she points out in a worried voice.
Even though she can’t see me, I shake my head. “Just a little stressed.”
After she reminds me that I need to take better care of myself, she changes the subject to my upcoming trip to Atlanta to see her and my dad. “Are you still planning to visit in a few weeks?”
“I’ll be there, driving you insane,” I promise. When she laughs, I imagine her grinning face and how she’s probably waving her hand, shaking my comment off.
“You could never do that, baby. Me and your dad just really...” She pauses for several seconds, and a sob hitches in my throat. The moment she opens her mouth to speak again, the concern has returned along with the firm voice she used on us when we were kids. “Alright, spill it now.”
And I do. Even though my mother is a youth pastor, I leave nothing out, telling her about everything from the cutting to all the years of constant drama with Wyatt and even about the messages I recently discovered. When I’m done, she’s quiet for a long time.
“Do you love him?” she asks. “Are you still in love with Wyatt McCrae?”
Lucas’s words from the day at the DMV come to mind, and I swallow hard because my brother was right. It is impossible for me to stop loving someone. “Of course I do. I’ll never stop.”
My mother makes a squeaking noise, like she’s worrying her lip between her teeth. I hear her say something to my dad, and then I hear the sound of a door closing. “Then, you need to tell him that. If you both love each other, you need to be committed. And if he’s not willing to do that...well, the least you can do is get everything off your chest.”
“I don’t even know if it could work,” I say.
I can practically hear her shaking her head when she responds to me. “You don’t know anything until you try. No relationship is perfect, and there won’t ever be one that is. You just have to figure out how to fix yours.”
“I’ll contact him.”
“You don’t sound so sure,” she says, so when I respond, my voice is firm and convincing.
“I’m going to go see him, Mom. Even if we can’t be together, you’re right. Not trying will hurt so much worse than talking to him and agreeing that it’s best we stay apart.”
She releases a sigh of relief. “Good, I’m so proud of you. I’ve got to hang up now—your dad and I have made plans this evening, but I love you. I’ve loved you and Lucas since the day you were born, been proud of you both since I first laid eyes on you, and nothing will ever change that.” Before we end the call, she clears her throat softly. “And Kylie? There’s so much we need to talk about in person when you come home.”
I’ve given her a lot to think about and said things I never planned on revealing to her, so I know by the time I go to Atlanta, we’ll have hours of conversation ahead of us. There might be tears and maybe even some angry words, but I nod my head, welcoming it. “I know, Mom. I love you, too.”
***
For the next twenty-four hours, I let myself absorb my mom’s words, and by the next evening, I know that I’m ready to face Wyatt. I don’t want to lose my nerve, so I don’t call him to let him know I’m on my way as I make the drive to his West Hollywood bungalow.
His car, a fully restored classic Chevelle, is parked in his driveway, and I pull my blue Yaris right behind it. Taking a deep breath, I walk up to his front door. I ring the bell and then clench my fists by my side as I wait for him to answer.
When he pulls open the door a moment later, he’s speaking to someone over his shoulder, but his words are cut off the second he lays his intense blue eyes on me.
Slowly, I take in the sight of him. He’s barefoot, wearing nothing but a pair of gym shorts. My gaze traces over the bluebird tattoo on his chest. It’s healing fast, and I feel a sharp pang in my rib cage. “Hey, I hope you don’t mind me—”
“God, no. Never. Come in.” He’s hesitant to touch me at first, but then he places his palms to the side of my face, pushing back soft wisps of my hair with his thumbs. I tilt my face up to his, not caring that it’s obvious I’m breathing in the subtle scent of his cologne. “I can’t believe you’re here,” he murmurs at last, as he lowers his hands.
He moves aside, and I smile and step into his foyer. He stares at me for a long time until a noise from the hallway makes him turn his eyes away. “Be right there,” he calls out over his shoulder.
“You’re busy,” I say, suddenly feeling stupid. “I can come back later. I can—”
But the other person in the house hears me and cuts me off by saying my name loudly. “Kylie?”
It’s Brenna’s voice, and I lift my head to take in the sight of her just as she comes rushing from the hallway. She runs into me, hard, knocking the air out of my lungs.
