Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92668 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92668 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I shut the door behind me slightly too vigorously, and my stomach sank at the sound of him getting out of the car.
“Charlotte…”
“I am mad at you.” I turned around, glaring at him. “You’re right, I am. And tough fucking shit, Noah. You can’t tell me you expected otherwise.”
He said nothing, merely pressing his lips into a thin line. He was under a lamppost so his face was fully illuminated, and I could see the emotion swirling in his deep, green eyes.
“I didn’t handle things well when I left here the last time, but I never thought for a second that you, of all people, would hurt me like that,” I said, holding his gaze. “You told me you loved me, then you tossed me away, never speaking to me again. There was no breakup, there was no reason, there was no closure. You just disappeared.”
His lips parted the slightest amount, and he drew in a deep breath at my words.
“You broke my fucking heart in the most callous way possible.”
“I know,” he said softly.
“No, you don’t. If you knew that, you wouldn’t be talking to me like nothing happened. Like we’re friends. We’re not, Noah. We’re not even close to being friends, because I don’t owe you anything. I don’t owe you my kindness, I don’t owe you my understanding, and I sure as fuck don’t owe you my forgiveness. You haven’t even tried to explain to me why you did what you did. I deserved it back then. I deserved to know. I still do.”
Nothing.
He said nothing.
He just looked at me with that same sad, resigned, almost broken glint in his eye.
I shook my head and grabbed the door handle. “I am so going to regret this in the morning,” I said, looking over my shoulder. “But maybe now you’ll get it. I don’t care that you took me in for questioning or that I’m a suspect in your murder case. I care that after all those years, all that time we spent together, you didn’t give a fuck enough about me to be honest with me. And you still don’t. So just leave it, and me, be.”
I opened the door and stepped inside.
“I’m sorry,” Noah said softly, his voice breaking halfway through.
I closed my eyes. “No, you’re not. You’re not sorry about what you did. You’re just sorry I’m calling you on it.”
Then I shut the door behind me.
This. This was why you did not drink and get into cars with your ex. Or text them, either, for that matter, but getting in a car with your ex was easily a far worse choice.
The sound of his car running at the end of the drive lingered for a couple of minutes too long, and I only moved when I heard it disappear down the street.
I looked up to the sight of Mum standing in the doorway to the kitchen with a sad smile on her face. “Don’t,” I said, feeling the prickle of tears in my ears. “I know I’m stupid.”
“You’re not stupid, sweetheart,” she said, putting her tea on the shelf by the mirror and coming over to me. She gently brushed the hair from my face and wiped her thumb under my eye, catching a tear that had escaped. “I remember all that, and I know just how much he hurt you. Everything you’re feeling right now is valid.”
“It was ten years ago.” I sniffed, wiping my nose with my sleeve like a child. “I shouldn’t even care, but now I’m standing here crying like a right twat.”
“Because you’re drunk.” Mum laughed, pulling me into a hug. “Alcohol lowers our inhibitions, making us say things we never usually would. I bet you’ve been keeping that inside, haven’t you?”
I nodded into her shoulder.
“Sweet Lottie,” she whispered, hugging me even tighter. “I’m going to kill your father for thinking it was a good idea for letting you get into that car with him.”
“I thought you were asleep.”
“I was. Your father shouts on the phone.”
Ah.
“He fell asleep right away and I crept up to use the bathroom, then heard you get back and wanted to make sure you were all right.” She pulled back and wiped my cheeks. “Shall we get you to bed?”
“I’m twenty-eight. I don’t need you to put me to bed,” I mumbled.
She stared at me in that knowing way only mums could.
“Yes, please,” I whispered.
“That’s what I thought.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Morning dawned with an elephant-sized bucket of regret, a surprisingly small headache, and not a word from Mum about what had gone down last night.
I was grateful for it.
I didn’t want to relive everything I’d said to Noah out loud. That movie was already on loop in Charlotte’s Brain Cinema, and I didn’t even have to pay for popcorn.
It was fine.
Like Mum said last night, my feelings were valid, and they were. Just because our relationship had ended ten years ago didn’t mean that I wasn’t still allowed to be hurt about it now that Noah was back in my life.