Page 29

“I know you can, Court,” I say, moving towards her, pulling my jacket off. Before she can protest, I drape it over her shoulders, and she stares at me, eyes wide, brows pinched. “Don’t be stubborn. Please.”

She opens her mouth to argue again, but it dies in her throat when I flatten my hand between her shoulders and guide her to the waiting car.

“We’re going the same way,” I continue, ignoring the flare of discontent in her gaze. “Let me make sure you get home safe. That’s all.”

She doesn’t fight me. Doesn’t argue. But I know she’s stewing all that mouthwatering frustration beneath her skin.

Courtney shuffles all the way across the seat, sitting stoically. Hands gripping her purse in her lap.

I sit on the other side of the bench. There are so many things I want to say and somehow I can’t find the right words to vocalize. To iterate them better than I already have.

Instead, we spend the ride home soaked in silence. The weight in the air bearing down on us. Every breath she takes beside me is tight, sharp, controlled.

I’m no better—forcing myself to stay glued to my seat even though I’m desperate to scoot over. Just a little closer.

That’s how I end up getting out of the car after her. Following her inside, all the way through to the elevators.

I’m wound up so tight I don’t even think about hiding the fact that I live in the same building anymore.

“You don’t have to walk me to my literal door,” Courtney speaks.

Finally. Something.

“I know.” I nod in return, following her inside the elevator and standing on the opposite side.

Courtney is stunning but in that little black dress with the puffy princess sleeves and corset-like waist…

she looks insane. Not a strand of her hair is out of place, flowing down to the small of her back.

And those high heels that put her almost nose to nose with me— almost —have her legs going on and on for days beneath the micro skirt that just covers her full ass.

This woman is fucking mesmerizing with her churlish pout and upturned nose. She’s bouncing gently with the movement of the floor, arms wrapped around herself, eyes forward.

Even though we’re not touching, we’re seconds away from combusting.

Every floor we pass makes it worse, choking the air until it’s so thin it’s not enough to keep me seeing straight .

By the time the doors open on our floor, her voice is a steely whisper. “We’re even… you’re forgiven…”

I don’t move. Don’t even blink. Nothing.

“You’ve done enough,” she continues, looking up at me. Blinking and rolling her lips like the words need to be lubricated out of her mouth. “I think… I think we need space. Perspective…”

Perspective? What other perspective is there other than I am fucking losing it over her?

Still, I keep my cool, forcing my voice to stay level as I say, “If that’s what you want.”

It’s not. We both know that. It’s written in her frown. Brimming in her eyes.

But Courtney doesn’t say that. She turns for her door, fingers curling around her keys. While I… I’m so fucking exhausted of hiding. Of playing a game that I’m clearly not winning, that I traipse behind her.

Fishing my keys from my pocket, I go straight to my door, and then…

Click.

It opens.

Samson scurries out.

Right to her like the love fool she’s made him too.

Courtney freezes.

She stares down at him. Then up at the door. Finally, at me .

At realization.

“You—” she starts, breath catching. Her jaw drops, voice turning sharp, accusing. “You live here?”

My silence is damning. I know, but I’m not a liar. I have never lied to Courtney. Besides, the answer is pretty fucking obvious with Samson yapping at her for attention after bounding out of our place.

Maybe I’m delusional… but I’m not that fucking crazy.

Court’s eyes widen with something like betrayal and disbelief. I hate it so much that I’m incapable of saying anything. The dryness in my mouth makes it impossible to form words.

“You’ve been here this whole time and didn’t say anything?” The question is rhetorical and vapid as she marches toward me, fury boiling red to the surface of her skin, and pushes hard.

The impact jostles her away from me as I stumble back a step. Enough that I can’t reach for her fast enough when she continues back tracking all the way to her gaping door .

Just as she slams it between us tears skitter down her fury-blotched face.

It’s enough to break me. To make every damn truth I haven’t told her worse than any lie I could have.

I’ve spent my life keeping people at a distance. Keeping things clean. No attachments. No strings. I’ve been running from anything that feels too real, too deep because the only space I had for love was all hockey.

And now Courtney’s walked away from me. From us.

I should feel relief. If I list out the pros and cons, I’m certain that the cons will have it for anything between us…

But I’m drowning. At the thought of not seeing her again. Of not talking to her. Not getting another of her smiles all to myself. More than that, I’m dying at the thought of her behind her door crying because of me.

I thought I had control over this. I thought I knew how to play this game.

But she’s taken the rules and twisted them into something I can’t understand.

Now, I can’t breathe without her. Nor can I save myself. Or stop this spiral.

I’ve never lived before like I have in her shadows, watching her, existing around her. Next to her.

I’ve been waiting for the moment when she’d understand just how fucking far I’ve fallen for her.

I want to stop it. I want to keep my distance. But every part of me is tethered to her.

I can’t let her go.

“Court…” My voice cracks, the vice in my chest cinching each breath as I stand at her door. I need to say something, to do something to fix my fuck up, even if it’s too late for anything else.

My hands shake as I drag them through my hair, frustration twisting my insides into a knot. I lean against the doorframe of her apartment, hearing the muffled sounds of her movement inside. Her breathing, soft but quick and stilted.

Fuck.

I know she’s upset. I know she’s angry. But fuck if it doesn’t feel like I’m suffocating under this weight.

I knock, just once.

It’s enough to make her freeze .

When she opens the door, she doesn’t even give me the chance to speak before she starts.

“Go away.” Her voice cracks with fury. “You’ve lied to me this whole time! This whole time!”

I try to speak, but she doesn’t give me the chance.

“Don’t you dare make excuses,” she snaps, stepping forward. “I thought I was wrong. Thought that…”

“Court—”

“Oh my God… no. You think I’m going to fall for your sad face?”

“Wha—”

A guttural sob cuts through her chest as she states, “I am not my mother. I’m not… I’m not.”

She takes a step back and pushes the door into my waiting palms.

“Can you just hear me out?”

“No. I don’t need to hear anything you have to say.

You’re a liar… a selfish fucking liar. Just like him.

I know guys like you, Auguste. I have all the excuses and all the apologies memorized.

” There’s angry and then there’s… Courtney .

Her index finger is stabbing into her temple with every word she spits at me.

“I’ve lived with them all my life. I’m not doing this.

I’m not… you need to leave me alone. Stay away from me. ”

Her words hit like blunt knives, hacking at my chest.

“Courtney… please… I can't let you go.”

I see the shock flicker in her eyes, and it makes me want to rip my words out of the air and swallow them whole.

Except it's too late.

“You what?” she asks, voice completely broken. “You never even had me.”

It’s a lie she’s telling herself. To save her from the fact she’s as fucking deep in whatever we’ve become as I am. I know that, but it doesn’t sting any less.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice raw as she backs away from her door, not bothering to force me away while she disappears inside her dark apartment.

Before Samson can run inside, I pick him up and hold him to my chest, staring inside through the empty hallway to the deathly still living area.

I’m paralyzed.

I want to scream.

I want to break everything in sight. But I’m not sure what hurts more—the anger or the realization that I just lost her. That everything I’ve done up until now, every fucking thing I thought I was building between us… it’s gone.

I walk back into my apartment, my body on autopilot. I can feel the panic rising in my chest, but I don’t know how to calm it.

I need to fix this.

Except, I have no idea where to start.

I grab my phone, my fingers trembling as I dial étienne’s number. The line rings, once, twice, before he picks up.

“It’s one in the morning. This better be good,” he grumbles.

“éti… I… I…”

“Shit—” All sleep fades from his voice. “—what’s happened? What’s going on?”

“I fucked up,” I growl, slumping into the couch. My fingers dig into my temples like it’ll stop the pressure building behind my eyes. “I’ve ruined everything.”

étienne’s silence stretches for a second.

“You have to be more specific, Auggie.”

“Courtney…”

“Courtney who?”

“Court… I thought that I could… I don’t know… win her over. Make her see me.”

“Okay,” he says with a long inhale. “You called me at one in the morning to talk about a girl? Auguste, the twins only got off to sleep an hour ago. Bro…”

“Oh. I forgot. I’m… I’m sorry… it was stupid and… and… selfish .”

I guess Courtney’s right—I’m just a selfish liar.

“Sorry,” I tell him, ending the call as Samson forces his way up onto my lap, snuggling into me the way he does with her. “I don’t know what to do, bud. Why is she so mad at me for not telling her we live here?”

Shit.

This is when it hits me—not telling Courtney we're neighbors is the least of the reasons she's going to hate me if she finds out I've been watching her.

Fuck.

My phone vibrates in my hand. For a fleeting second, I’m hit with the hope that it’s Courtney.

Stupid. Because she’s never called me. I have one fucking text from her. A reply.