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I freeze, a cookie halfway to my mouth.
Ding dong.
Fuck.
I clutch the chip bag to my chest, creeping toward the door. My sock-covered feet slide silently across the hardwood.
Through the peephole, Brandon’s face is distorted, but I’d recognize those lips and jaw anywhere. He shifts his weight and runs a hand through his hair.
Ding dong.
“Naomi.” His voice carries through the door. “I know you’re in there.”
Maybe if I stay quiet, he’ll?—
“I’m not leaving until you open this door.”
My fingers trace the deadbolt. The metal’s cold against my skin.
“I know what you’re about to do,” he says. “Please don’t.”
Too late. My legs shake. Too much. Too fast. I need to get rid of it.
“Please.” His voice drops to a quiet murmur. “Just… let me in.”
The chip bag crinkles as I squeeze it tighter. I don’t want him to see me like this. “Leave me alone.”
“You know I won’t.” A pause. “Not when you’re spiraling.”
A broken sound escapes me. “I’m not.”
“I’ll sit here all night if I have to.”
“Be my guest.”
“Open the door.”
“I can’t.” My throat closes up. “I can’t stop.”
“Yes, you can.” His voice is gentle. “Put down the food, cupcake. Let me in.”
I stare at the devastation, the chips bag, and the scattered crumbs. Salt and grease coat my fingers, my lips, my chin. I’m disgusting. Pathetic. “Brandon…”
“I’m going to use my key.”
Brandon is not playing by my rules anymore.
He slipped past them, and I let him.
The lock clicks.
TWENTY-ONE
NAOMI
Brandon steps inside, his eyes scanning my surroundings before landing on me.
I hold up my hand, chip dust falling like snow. “Don’t look.”