I could lie. I could reject her outright and say something hurtful so she can get a taste of her own medicine. But despite what people might think, I never wanted to hurt anyone. I only ever wanted to protect myself.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say as Ryan locks eyes with me from where he stands. “I’ll call you.” I don’t wait for her to say goodbye before I hang up. But it isn’t long before I break eye contact with him and walk up to my door to unlock it.

“I’m kind of peopled-out today,” I tell him as I open my door. He follows me inside, and I sigh as I close the door behind us. Suddenly unbearably tired, it takes a lot of effort to face him, but I do.

He looks haggard. His dark hair is standing up at all angles, which is clearly the work of his worried hands. His glasses are smudged, so he’s probably been rubbing his eyes. His clothes are rumpled, too, which makes me wonder how long he’s been sitting on the cold floor of my apartment hallway.

“I needed to see you.”

I walk past him to toss my keys and purse on a chair. “Why? Figured I flew the coop again?” God, when the fuck did I get so angry? If anyone had asked me even two days ago, I’d have said anger was never my primary emotion—at least it hasn’t been since I was bleeding in a hotel room in New York—but it sure feels like it is now.

Ryan steps closer but doesn’t touch me. I don’t know what would hurt more, having his hands on me or not, so I stand right where I am and decide to let him make the first move.

“Are you going to leave again?” He whispers the words as if speaking them any louder would summon a repeat of the same curse that came upon us last time.

I huff and look to the side, unable to meet his eyes again. “Depends on what you mean by ‘leave.’”

Like a switch has flipped, his long fingers circle around my biceps as if holding on to me could keep me from disappearing before his very eyes. “Scarlett, no—”

“I can’t do it, Ryan.” I also can’t listen to his pleas. If he begs me to keep writing, I might give in. For this man, who has seen the worst of me and loves me both in spite and because of it, I’d do anything.

“Don’t leave me again.” His voice is deep, husky. It’s a command and a prayer, and he’s looking at me like I’m the goddess who could answer both.

“I couldn’t,” I say. “But I can’t see any way out of this with all the pieces of me intact, either.”