Page 93 of Pin My Alpha
He did it wrong.
But so did I.
I took the worst thing he could’ve said and used it to run before he got the chance to say anything else.
The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
I set the soup on the desk because suddenly I can’t hold it.
Benji folds the napkin in half, creasing the little ruined heart until the dagger disappears.
“He fucked up,” he says. “You fucked up. Congratulations. You’re both people.”
“That’s not comforting.”
“I’m not comforting.”
“I noticed.”
He bumps his shoulder into mine.
The contact nearly undoes me.
I stare at my duffel bag by the door. The zipper is half-open. A stupid slash of green peeks out.
Benji follows my gaze.
“You took the towel,” he says.
“Don’t start.”
“Not starting anything. Just saying, people don’t steal sweaty bar towels because they’re indifferent.”
“It smelled good.”
“Yeah.” His voice goes softer. “Because it smelled like home.”
A raw sound tears out of my throat.
I press my lips together, but it’s no use. My face just… crumples. Fast and ugly and completely against my will. One second I’m sitting here trying to look like I have this handled, and the next I’m covering my face with both hands because if Benji sees me cry, I will have to fake my own death.
He doesn’t say anything.
He just sits there.
Which is worse. And better. Both.
“It’s too late,” I whisper into my palms, the words barely making it out.
Benji’s knee stays pressed against mine.
“I broke it.”
He’s quiet long enough that I have to look up.
His eyes are wet, too, which he’ll deny under oath. He doesn’t tell me it’s fine. Doesn’t say Declan’s waiting, doesn’t promise I’ll walk back into Byrne’s and get forgiven. This isn’t one of Jude’s stupid romance movies where everybody says the perfect thing at the perfect time.
He just looks at me like I’m worth the truth.
