Page 112 of Too Far

It hurts. It hurts to know she’s moving on.

In search of a blanket, she wandered through the dark house, wearing a tiny tank top and sweatpants that clearly belong to one of the guys. She just wanted a blanket.

And I can’t leave well enough alone.

Her hair is wild and loose. She’s fresh-faced, her cheeks rosy and lips swollen. I want to ask if she’s cold. If she’s hungry. If she’s even remotely okay. Because I’m fucking not. I haven’t been since the second I told her we were through and obliterated the most cherished relationship I’ve ever had. That I’ll ever have.

All I want to do is hold her.

“Siren.”

She blinks out of the spell we were both under.

She pulls the blanket around her shoulders tighter.

I know before she opens her mouth that the moment is gone.

Vanished. Dissipated. Over before it even truly began, just like us.

She averts her gaze. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be up.” She won’t even look at me. Her focus is fixed on a spot over my shoulder.

“Josephine,” I try again. Surely she can feel my desperation—the despondence and pain that lurches through me at just the sight of her. If only she’d let me hold her. If only we could slow this all down so I could explain.

I reach out. Only enough to test her resolve.

She shifts back before I’ve moved an inch.

“Kylian said we wouldn’t see you again this weekend.” Her words are clipped, her tone as tense as her posture. She barely sounds like herself as she speaks, and she still won’t meet my eye.

She wasn’t supposed to see me.

That’s what I promised when I persuaded them to come to the cabin.

How the hell did I convince myself I could stay away from her when every breath I take burns with regret?

She wasn’t supposed to see me, but the instant I laid eyes on her, I couldn’t hold back.

“I’m sorry. I’m only out here because I didn’t think anyone would be up at this hour.”

She nods, pulling the blanket draped around her shoulders even tighter.

“I just needed…” She trails off, still looking everywhere but at me.

A blanket. She needed a blanket.

Which confirms my suspicions. She’s sleeping downstairs with Kylian.

I didn’t dare inquire about sleeping arrangements. I was just so damn grateful that they’d all be here. That I can see with my own eyes that they’re safe. That they’re sheltered, under my roof, together. Despite how begrudgingly they came.

But now she’s here. Standing two feet in front of me.

“Wait. Josephine,” I croak. Desperate to get through. Desperate for her to look at me, to open up, to stop pushing me out.

Her eyes find mine, and for a second, just a second, I swear there’s a flicker in those blue irises.

A flicker of curiosity.

A flash of pain.