Chapter 3

Erica

This town is always playing tricks on me.

I think with a sigh as I pad around the empty house in my underwear, no bra. Joy is supposed to be coming over soon and help me start the process of cleaning out my parents' stuff. I wouldn't have expected her to agree to it, but I should have. Even though we lost contact after I moved, the Joy I knew was so kind and willing to help anyone.

I'm grateful for the help too. I'm not looking forward to the process. Knowing my parents, they didn't leave anything good behind. Not a drop of love, that's for damn sure. So what could I possibly find in their things that would be worth the time this is going to take?

I glance around the room, what used to be my old room and which, thankfully, has been completely renovated. It's like my parents wanted to scrub the memory of me from the walls the moment I left. Good for them, I guess. Now, it's a guest room. Neutral colors, stiff-ass furniture, no sign of the girl who used to live here. That's fine with me. I don't need any reminders. I don't need to sleep in the same, unchanged space where I used to cry myself to sleep every night, praying they'd notice me.

Even though I keep telling myself I don't care about any of this, the house feels like a weight, and the silence is suffocating.

As it nears three PM, I finally start getting ready, just throwing on an oversized sweatshirt—one I'd stolen from a guy I dated for, like, three weeks. He was a jerk, dumped me because I wasn't "moving fast enough" for him. I took the damn sweatshirt as payback.

I run my fingers through my hair, trying to make it look like I put in some effort, but honestly, I'm just not feeling it. I've been avoiding so much these last couple of days—sorting through the house, facing the reality of what's left behind, and...checking on my car with Steven and Theo.

Ugh. Theo.

Just thinking about him makes my skin heat up. That man is trouble with a capital T. I haven't even known him for long, but the way he looked at me that day, the way he filled up the space next to me in that truck—it's been two days, and I still can't shake the feeling. I haven't felt like this in ever. Every guy I've dated just left me cold, uninterested, like they were missing some spark. But Theo? I'd be down for him in a heartbeat, no hesitation.

I'm in the middle of deciding if I should wear pants when the doorbell rings.

Well that decides that. I tug at the hem of the sweatshirt—it covers enough, so I figure I can answer the door without embarrassing myself too much. I head to the door, expecting to see Joy's smiling face as I swing it open. I stop short.

It's Theo.

Of course it's Theo. The universe can't just let me live, can it?

He's standing there, filling up the doorway like it's too small for him. His eyes flick down to my bare legs, and I feel a blush creep up my neck. Damn it. I should've put on pants.

I don't cower, though. I refuse to. My body's on fire with embarrassment, but I keep my head high, my expression neutral. It's just a sweatshirt. It's just Theo. No big deal, right?

"Afternoon," I greet, trying to sound casual, but my voice is a little too high-pitched. I clear my throat, willing myself to relax.

Theo's gaze lingers for a second before he says, "Joy got a call about something. She's taking it in private." His jaw tightens, and then, before I can process what's happening, he blurts out, "You got a boyfriend?"

I blink, caught off guard. "What?"

His eyes flick to the sweatshirt again, and he gestures at it, his hand clenching and unclenching at his side. "That sweatshirt. It's a few sizes too big for you. Is it your boyfriend's?"

The question hangs in the air between us, and for a second, I just stare at him. He's glaring at the sweatshirt like it's offended him personally. I bite my lip, then release it slowly, feeling a weird mix of amusement and frustration.

"Was a boyfriend's," I answer finally. "Not anymore."

Theo grunts, clearly not satisfied with my answer, but he doesn't press it. His eyes stay locked on the sweatshirt like he's imagining tearing it right off me. I don't know whether to laugh or feel turned on.

I decide to go for neither. "You can come in, you know. Make yourself at home," I say, gesturing behind me. "I know it's kind of late, but there's coffee. I'll just go get more decent."

I see something flicker in his eyes as I turn and walk away, but I don't give him the satisfaction of looking back. I can feel his gaze on me as I head upstairs, and the weight of it sends shivers down my spine.