Chapter 4

“You haven’t eaten, have you?” he asked.

“No.”

“Then eat something.”

I remained by the doorway. Ryan set down his cup.

“You didn’t answer any of my messages last night.”

“I saw them.”

“Did you take care of what we talked about?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” His shoulders eased. “Tell me if you’re feeling unwell.”

I looked at him. His concern seemed real, and so had the things he said in that classroom.

“Leah.” He slid the coffee toward me. “Your stomach acts up when you skip meals. Eat before we talk about this.”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

I wanted to ask whether his friends had put words in his mouth at school. I wanted to ask about the kiss with Blair too, but I was afraid he would give me an explanation I’d once have accepted.

“You should go,” I said.

Ryan frowned. “I explained the party. Blair drew a card, and everyone made a big deal out of it. I can talk to you about it if you’re upset, but I don’t have to ask your permission every time I do something.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

He picked up his coffee and set it down hard. The lid came loose. Coffee ran over the rim, down the table leg, and onto the rug.

Ryan glanced at the spill.

“Leah, we both wanted last night,” he said, his voice turning cold. “I don’t want you thinking it means I owe you a relationship.”

I watched the coffee soak into the rug.

“I’m not asking for one.”

“You’re acting like you are.”

I raised my eyes. “Ryan, what do you think I could ask you for now?”

He paused. My face must have given something away, because his expression softened.

“That came out wrong,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I barely slept, and I got up early. My head’s a mess.”

There was a time when that look from him would have made me search for my part in the argument.

Ryan stepped closer and reached for my face. I moved back. His phone rang before he could speak.

He checked the screen and answered at once. After listening for a few seconds, he laughed, then glanced at me.

“I’ll be right there.”

He ended the call and took his jacket from the chair.

“I have to go. We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down.”

At the door, he turned back. “Eat your breakfast. Your stomach doesn’t deserve this.”

The door shut, leaving the house quiet.

Less than half an hour later, Mia sent me a screenshot of Blair’s new post. In the photo, a hand was setting a bag of bagels in front of her. The logo on it matched the bag on my table.

I said I was hungry, and he brought me breakfast.

I set my phone aside. Ryan could have bought two orders. That shop could have been on his way. I was tired of filling in the details for him.

I knelt and pressed paper towels into the coffee on the rug. By the time I stopped, a dark patch remained.

Ryan had brought that rug home from a trip with his parents. He said he had seen it in a store and thought it would suit our living room. I had been so pleased that I asked Dad to move the sofa the day Ryan gave it to me.

My wrist ached from scrubbing. I rolled up the rug and carried it toward the storage room.

On the way, I passed the wall of family photos. One showed Ryan and me at sixteen. I was on a ladder hanging holiday lights, and he stood below, holding it steady and looking up at me.

Mia had said he looked worried I might fall, though he seemed happy to let me finish. I had loved that photo ever since.

I took it down.

Then I gathered the things Ryan had left at our house: two comic books, a track jacket, and a pair of shoes he had forgotten after basketball. I found the keychain he had given me in a drawer and a puzzle we had bought together on a shelf.

The pile kept growing. I put his belongings in one box. Gifts and photos went into another.

Many of those gifts had come from the friendship we had shared since childhood. I had spent years looking at them and finding reasons to believe I meant something more to him. For now, I wanted them out of sight.