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My insides squeal with shame. “I’m so sorry.”

The butterflies in my stomach batter their wings as Anthony’s smouldering gaze lingers on mine. I forget that I’m hungover, too busy wondering what he’s thinking when he looks at me like that.

“There’s nothing to apologise for,” he says finally, pushing off the bench. “Can’t say the same for Nathan. He needs to watch his back.”

“There’s no proof he did anything.”

“I might not have proof, but I don’t trust the guy. Promise me you’ll stay away from him.” Anthony’s face is etched with concern as he watches me.

“I promise to stay away from him if you promise to leave it alone,” I reply. “No digging around by youoryour brother. I want to keep my neighbours onside, especially since I haven’t even opened yet.”

Anthony sighs. “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

Anthony nods with apparent satisfaction before picking up his shirt, pulling it on over his head with ease. “I’ve gotta shoot off. You all good?”

Disappointment swells in my chest. “Yep. Thanks for … everything.”

He heads to the notepad and pen on the kitchen bench and spins it towards me. “While you were sleeping, I jotted down some websites and numbers for you.”

I frown, walking over. “For what?”

“Recommended therapists. I had a number suggested to me when I moved here. Angela was just the first who could get me in.”

I blink at him.

“In your garbling last night, you said you wanted to go back to therapy. You probably don’t remember.”

I rack my brain, remembering rambling about some narcissist bullshit. Vaguely.

“It was stuff about self-sabotage. You said you’d maybe consider going back-”

“Slow your roll there pal,” I interject, squeezing the bridge of my nose. “I was on another planet last night. Sounds like I was talking out of my ass.”

Anthony narrows his eyes, and I don’t miss the slight shake of his head.

“What?”

He shrugs. “I’ve never met someone more in denial. And that’s saying something.”

My cheeks flame, unexpected embarrassment coursing through my limbs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being scared of falling in love, Red. Most people are on some level.”

Why is he bringing this up again?

“I’m notscaredof falling in love,” I argue. My hackles rise and any semblance of a schoolgirl crush dissolves before my eyes. “I like my freedom and the rush at the beginning of relationships more thanbeingin one.”

Anthony tips his head to the side, studying me. “Ah, yes. You’ve used that line on me before. The line we both know is bullshit.”

My eyebrows spring to my hairline. “I don’t have the energy for this today, Anthony. Get out of my house.”

I turn away from him and march across the room, slamming my bedroom door closed, wincing at the bang it sets off in my brain, tears springing to my eyes.

* * *

I hate myself.