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I nodded.

"Then tell him. Give him the chance to decide for himself if he can handle it."

"What if he can't?"

James squeezed my shoulder. "What if he can?"

We sat in silence for a while, my tears gradually subsiding. The weight in my chest hadn't lifted, but it had shifted somehow, become more bearable.

"I don't know what to do," I admitted finally.

"Yes, you do." James stood up, stretching. "But first, you need to eat something and get some sleep. You look like you're about to pass out."

As if on cue, my stomach growled loudly. I realized I hadn't eaten since dinner the night before.

"I'll make you a sandwich," James said, heading for the door. "Then you're going to take a shower, because frankly, you stink, and then you're going to sleep. We can figure out the rest tomorrow."

I managed a weak smile. "Thanks, James."

He paused at the door, his expression serious. "One more thing. You should at least let Con know you're safe. He's worried sick."

The guilt returned, sharper than before. "I will."

After James left, I picked up my phone and stared at Con's messages. There were so many, each one more concerned than the last. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, unsure what to say.

Finally, I typed:

I'm at James's. I'm safe. I'm sorry.

It wasn't enough—not nearly enough—but it was all I could manage right now. I hit send before I could change my mind, then turned off my phone and set it aside.

The sandwich James brought me tasted like cardboard, but I forced it down anyway. The shower helped a little, washing away the sweat and grime of the drive, if not the shame and confusion.

By the time I crawled into James’s couch, exhaustion had overtaken everything else. My last thought before sleep claimed me was of Con's face as I'd driven away—hurt, confused, and so, so sad.

I'd done that to him. I'd taken something beautiful and broken it because I was too afraid to let it grow.

Chapter 22

Geri

It had been two weeks since I'd been back in Seabreeze Haven, working at the same old restaurant and staying at James's place. I was close to having reached my limit there, and I knew it was time to find somewhere else to live. James hadn't said it, but I knew it. James had told me daily now to call Con, but all I had mustered was to text him saying I needed space, it wasn't him, it was me—the age-old excuse of someone wanting to run away from you.

Con had messaged and called me daily, but I had ignored them all or written back simple replies of "I need space" or "I need time."

I was a horrible person. I knew it. I knew it deep in my soul.

It was why I was driving up to Riverside to meet someone who had a room to rent. Why I had chosen Riverside, I wasn't sure. It would mean I would have to drive 45 minutes to work each day, but I also wanted to go where I didn't know anyone. Well, Alex lived there, and so did Louise, but that was it, and it was massive, so I would be fine to walk the shops and not run into people.

The guy I was meeting seemed well enough on the phone. He said he worked at the airport in customs and was never home,was renting the room out because he liked the idea of having someone at the house when he wasn't.

The drive there was easy, solidifying the fact that I would, in fact, be able to drive it daily, and I was right—he was nice enough, a little strange, but who wasn't these days? And the room itself was only $200 a week, easy cash for me to afford.

I had signed the legal paperwork with him for three months, and we would resign every three months from then. Simple and easy contracts were my sort of thing. Not a big commitment, because let's face it, commitment wasn't my thing. And I had driven back to James and told him the news. James seemed worried and told me I could rent his spare room, but I didn't want that. I loved James more than anything, but I needed to just be alone. I had fucked up things with Con, and James knew too much about me—not all, but enough that when he looked at me, I knew he looked at me with pity, and I hated that. I had started back at my meetings and hopping from one to another—no old faces, just all new ones—and I was finally feeling a bit better mentally.

The morningI was set to move to Riverside dawned grey and drizzly, matching my mood perfectly. I'd packed my meagre belongings into three suitcases and a couple of boxes—the sum total of my life fitting easily into the trunk of my car. It was depressing how little I had to show for twenty-two years on this planet.

James stood in the doorway of his apartment, arms crossed, watching me load the last box. His expression was a mixture of concern and resignation.