His by Contact

I knew something was wrong the second I stepped into his apartment.It was too quiet.He always had something playing, jazz, old R&B, sometimes even classical when he wasworking late. Tonight? Nothing. Just silence. Except… no. Not silence.A laugh.I froze in the middle of the living room, the gift bag biting into my palm. It was muffled, soft, but Iknew that laugh. I'd grown up with it, I'd heard it across hallways, in the middle of fights, in thebackground of family dinners.My sister's laugh.No. No, I was imagining things. It couldn't be. It couldn't.I swallowed hard, forcing myself to breathe, forcing my legs to move. My My throat was so tightit hurt to swallow.And then I heard what sounded like a moan. A moan.My stomach turned cold. The bag slipped from my hand, crashing onto the marble, the bottle ofwhiskey shattering, glass skittering everywhere, liquid pouring out like it was mocking me.My feet carried me forward before my brain could catch up. I knew I should turn

He didn't look at me like a man who once loved me.He looked at me like a wolf who'd finally finally found the sheep that got away.And I hated the fact it made my pulse quicken."I didn't come here to remember the past," I said, trying to keep my voice steady."No?" His eyes glittered, sharp as broken glass."Funny, because that's all I've been doing sinceyou texted me. High school. You laughing in my face. You saying I'd never be good enough foryou, and your family ruining mine.I swallowed hard. My mouth was dry, but I forced the words out."I was stupid."He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. His voice dropped low, intimate, but cutting."No. You were being honest. That's the difference between you and me—I never lied about whatI wanted."Heat crawled up my throat. He was right, damn him. He asked me out once, honest and brave.And I turned him into a joke. And still, he dated my best friend afterward, like a knife in my back.I lifted my chin, summoning every

The steering wheel felt slick beneath my hands.I don't even remember the drive back to my apartment. I only remember the echo of his voice,dark, steady, merciless. You'll move into my house. You'll sleep in my bed and you'll never run.Every red light blurred past me, my chest rising and falling too fast, like my body was trying tooutrun the deal I'd just sealed with the devil.When I finally parked, my knuckles ached from clutching the wheel. My building's lights weresoft, familiar, but they didn't comfort me. My legs wobbled as I walked inside, as if the ground nolonger trusted me.I kicked off my heels the second I closed the door and collapsed onto the couch. For a longtime, I just laid there, staring at nothing in particular.I could still feel the heat of his hand over mine. The weight of his voice in my chest. And damn itall I could still feel the tremor of something I refused to name curling low in my stomach.Sleep was merciless when it finally came. My dreams were tan