Page 45 of ’Til You Break

“Do you want me to make you something to eat?” He stops opposite me at the kitchen island, resting both palms on the countertop.

I simply shake my head and continue what I’m doing.

“About last night...”

I sigh.

I know we’ll have to talk about it eventually if I’m ever going to move on. But I can’t do it right now. I needed him then, when it happened. Whatever he’s about to say now won’t change that.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you needed me,” he says.

“Okay.”

I finish what I’m doing in the kitchen.

It’s the only acknowledgement I can manage without this turning into a conversation.

Or, more likely... an argument.

“‘Okay?’ That’s all you’re going to say?” he asks, irritation creeping into his voice.

Another sigh escapes me. I collect my coffee and the kitten’s food before heading back towards my bedroom.

“Hannah, talk to me,” he calls, following me down the hallway.

“I’ve got a busy day ahead.”

I step inside my room and begin closing the door.

I fully expect him to stop me before it shuts completely.

He doesn’t.

It slams shut in his face and everything goes quiet outside.

It’s probably for the best. I’d have cracked under the pressure eventually, and even getting into a screaming match would be progress in whatever game he’s trying to play.

I want none of it.

I put my cup of coffee down and feed my kitten. Then, I pull out my laptop and get to work. My search starts in the usual place, anything in the medical field, but I also expand my horizons to anything and everything that could give me a salary. Seeing how poorly things have been going with hospitals and clinics, it might be time for a change.

And as I scroll through retail and cleaning jobs, roles that pay far less than I used to earn, I still know this is for the best. Anything is a step in the right direction.

Because it’s best if Vik and I go our separate ways.

Even if it hurts.

Chapter Sixteen

Vik

One week later

Idon’t like this.

The atmosphere in my home is chaotic and hostile whenever we’re together, and painfully quiet whenever I’m alone.

I miss her voice. I miss her laugh echoing through the house. The sweet, intoxicating scent of her hair whenever she gets too close. Most of all, I miss her gentle touch. The quiet longing beneath her insistence that what we were doing was wrong.