“Is everything okay?” I hear Stella ask, but I’m already gone. My legs eat up the distance to the door with large steps, and my hands fly up to shove the heavy door open. I don’t look back, I just go. I can’t look at him. I can’t hear that song. I certainly can’t do both at the same fucking time.

Not without breaking down.

Vaguely, in the inner corners of my mind, the sound of the doors opening back up reaches me, but I keep moving. One foot in front of the other. The elevator is in sight. I just have to make it to them before he reaches me, and I’ll be okay.

I can do this.

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-One

Stone Philips

Shit.

My feet are moving of their own accord toward the door Cash just flew out of before I even know what’s going on. This entire night has been fucking weird. It feels like the calm before the storm. Then that fucking Whitney Houston song just had to come on.

In the hallway, my gaze lands on his back as he storms down the hall toward the elevators.

“Cash!” I shout to him as I pick up the pace, desperately needing to catch up to him. “Cash, please. Fuck! Will you slow down?”

“Fuck off, Stone!” His voice is gruff, and he isn’t slowing down. Fuck. The elevator doors open, and he steps inside and presses a button immediately. My speed walk turns into a jog, my dress shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor as I make my way toward him. I can’t let him fucking leave. My hand flies out to stop the door from closing as I cross over the threshold.

Wrath paints his face, fury swimming in his onyx eyes. He lets out a frustrated breath, lip curling into a sneer. “What the fuck do you want, Stone?”

“I want you to fucking stop and just fucking talk to me!”

“What for? What good will that do? Help clear your conscience?”

I fucking hate how much I’ve hurt him. How I’m the reason he has trouble trusting people. I fucked him up and I can’t ever take back what happened. More than anything, I want to lay it all out there. Finally tell him what happened and why I left. Why I stayed away and felt like I couldn’t come back. But I can’t. That’s not fair to him. I’ve caused him enough hurt. I can’t pile more of my shit onto his shoulders. He hates me now, but he’d hate me more if I did that to him.

“Cash,” I sigh, reaching out to grab his hand. “Please.”

His gaze falls to where my hand is touching his moments before he rips it away as if I physically burned him. “Don’t fucking touch me.”