Page 63 of Necessary Space

Deep down into the marrow of my bones I hated it, and I hated that I cared. Was I not man enough for him? Had I not hurt him the ways he wanted? Had I not made him mindless with fucking pleasure?

The audacity.

The betrayal.

I made it around the block in record time, but I wasn’t ready to go home. I wasn’t ready to talk to Grayson again. He was my best friend and I knew he’d be there for me when I needed him, but I didn’t want to need him. At least not yet. Not like this. I walked three more loops around the block, adding an extra street each circuit. By the time I got back to the house, Hendrix’s car was in the driveway.

Thankfully, I’d had enough time to cool down that I didn’t want to do something stupid like storm his front door and demand answers.

Hendrix had done something no other man had. He’d made me question my abilities and my worth. But on the fourth lap of the neighborhood, I’d talked myself right out of that idea. I spent the fifth lap reminding myself who I was, who I’d been before I’d done something as stupid as falling in love with Hendrix Sutton. Love was for fools, and I wasn’t a fucking fool.

The lights in his house were on, and I told myself I didn’t care.

I did.

But I could lie to myself.

Just apparently never to him.

The front door was unlocked, and I shoved it open, shucking out of my hoodie and tossing it on the back of the couch. My chest and pits were soaked with sweat, but I could breathe and that had to count for something. Grayson came into the living room, his face pinched.

“I’m fine,” I said, hoping the lie would head him off.

He answered me with an awkward and creaky sound that I struggled to decipher.

“I’m fine,” I said again.

“You…you left your phone,” he said.

“I wanted to think.”

“Hendrix tried calling you.”

I shrugged. “I’m fine.”

“He called a lot.”

“Okay.”

“I picked up,” he said.

“You what?”

“He called a lot and he texted. He was worried,” Grayson explained.

“Worried.”

“Worried.” Hendrix stepped out from the kitchen, still dressed for work. “It’s not like you to not answer when I call.”

“I went for a walk. I’m allowed to take time for myself.” The sweat that had coated my body turned cold and I shivered, the coiled tension tightening its hold on my throat.

Was the gas on or something?

It was getting hard to breathe.

“I was worried.” Hendrix stepped closer, and his face had all the indicators I’d expect with the words he was saying. “You told me to call you.”

“I didn’t say I’d answer.”