Page 200 of His Reckoning

I think back to her face when I confronted her. The way she tried to explain and how she decided to leave after the way I talked to her.

“No,” I admit.

“Then you need to factor that in,” Dean says.

I drag a hand through my hair. “She still wrote it.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “And you still let her see you.”

That stops me.

I look at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you don’t get to pretend this is just about the book,” he says. His voice is steady. “This is about the fact that someone finally saw the parts of you that you’d spent years hiding …” He gestures toward the couch. “And instead of walking away, she stayed.”

Dean lets it sit for a second. then adds quietly, “And that scared the hell out of you.”

I don’t respond because that feels too close to the truth.

Dean exhales. “I’m not saying you’re wrong to be upset,” he says. “You are. Anyone would be.” He pauses. “But I think you might be wrong about her.”

The room falls quiet again. I stare at the floor for a second.

I don’t know what to do with that.

Because if he’s right—if she wasn’t using me?—

I shake my head once. Cut the thought off before it can finish.

“I need time,” I say finally.

Dean nods. “Yeah. That’s fair. Just don’t take so long that you lose something worth fixing.”

The words linger long after he says them.

Dean heads toward the door, pausing before he leaves. “You gonna be all right?”

I nod once. “Yeah.”

He studies me for a second, then opens the door. “Call me if you need to not make another bad decision.”

A small huff of air leaves my chest. “I will.”

The door closes behind him.

And just like that … I’m alone again. But this time, the silence doesn’t feel as certain.

I glance toward the couch and stare down at the book and at the space that she used to fill.

For the first time since she walked out that door, I’m not sure I was right to let her go.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Kayla

The city feels louder than usual, or maybe I just notice it more.

Car horns cut through the air in sharp bursts. Conversations overlap as people pass me on the sidewalk. Music spills out of a bar halfway down the block, bass thumping faintly beneath everything else.