I already loved him.

I’d been in love with him for so long.

The burn rekindled in the center of my chest. I backed away from the door, struggling to clear my thoughts, but there was so much sparking back and forth. The backs of my legs hit the tub and I sat down. The undies were no protection against the cold ceramic.

What was I doing?

I was running. I was scared. Nothing he said was truly new to me. Fuck, I knew a lot of it already, but hearing it come from him shattered walls I didn’t even know I had erected around myself.

“Roxy?” Reece’s deep voice shook me.

My eyes glued to the door, I tried to take a deep breath, but it went nowhere. The pressure was back, and it was too much.

“Are you okay?” he demanded.

My lower lip trembled as I balled my hands into fists. Walking away from Reece wasn’t strength. This was me being weak, me doing what I always did when it came to fucking everything. But it wasn’t just born out of fear. Oh no, it ran deeper than that.

The bathroom door swung open and Reece’s body filled it. His shirt was askew and he hadn’t fastened the top button on his pants. He took one look at me, and everything I’d been thinking must’ve been written on my face. His expression softened as he stared at me.

Emotion crawled up my throat. “It’s my . . . it’s my fault.”

Reece stepped into the bathroom slowly, as if he was afraid of startling me. “What’s your fault, baby?”

“What happened to Charlie.” My voice cracked. I fissured straight down the middle.

His brows knitted as he knelt in front of me, keeping his hands on his thighs. “Honey, what happened to him is not your fault.”

“Yes it is,” I whispered, because saying it too loudly was too much. “You don’t understand. You weren’t there. I antagonized the situation.”

His eyes widened. “Roxy—­”

“He was hitting on me. Henry was.”

“You did nothing wrong, Roxy.” Anger flooded Reece’s face, mixing with sadness. “You’re allowed to tell a guy no, you’re not interested, and not be worried about retaliation. It’s not your fault.”