Page 142 of Cactus Heart
I felt miserable. But I’d made the right choice for everyone, right? I’d left so they could get on with their lives. Avery and Mateo would move on and buy a house together and probably get married and live happily ever after and I’d . . .
Wish I was with them.
“Take some time to think,” she said. “You’ve got the weekend. I need an answer by Monday.”
“Okay.”
“And Levi?”
“Yeah?”
“If you stay, you need to be in this one hundred percent. I can’t handle a half-assed, sad hockey boy. There’s no market for that.”
I stepped into my apartment building, autopilot kicking in. I was full from dinner and tired from the mind-numbing activities of this week.
In a way, I was grateful for it.
It was easier not to feel anything when other people were around.
My keys jangled as I unlocked the package room and poked my head inside. There was a small stack in the corner on the shelves and I winced, realizing they all belonged to me. I’d probably pissed some neighbors off after not checking the mail for . . . seven weeks.Jeez.
I gathered all the packages and balanced them in one arm as I locked the door behind me and went to the elevator. By the time I made it to the ninth floor, the loneliness had settled in.
Unavoidable. Eventually it would go away, right? Eventually this decision would feel right.
Even my apartment felt lonely. I closed my door behind me and leaned against it. The view of the city was beautiful. Everything was nice and clean and modern and didn’t have a single drop of kitschy Texas charm to be found.
I set everything down on my kitchen counter and started sorting through it all. A couple T-shirts. A sponsorship package with some sort of hydration powder. A couple new books, a new set of sticky notes, a new set of folders.
The package at the very bottom made me freeze.
It was square. A red fragile sticker was stuck on the brown paper, a hand-scrawled address on it.
I traced the ink with my fingertips, and my heart wedged in my throat.
Part of me wondered if this was going to be a binder with a long-ass letter on how much of an asshole I was. I wished it would be. I wished that they hated me because that was easier than the idea of them being sad.
Leaving Mateo on the sidewalk . . .
Leaving Avery in her studio . . .
It haunted me. Every night.
I peeled the paper off in strips, my hands shaking as the gift beneath was revealed.
It was a sketch. A small one of the three of us. Nothing lewd or evocative, just us standing together, looking at each other. The lines were loose, but they captured . . .
They captured what I wanted more than anything else.
Tears dripped onto the frame and I wiped my eyes quickly, breathing out. I pulled my phone out and pressed call.
“What do you want?”
“I need your help,” I said. “Do you know a real estate agent?”
I heard the smile in Robin’s voice. “I sure do.”
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
