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Chapter 25

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Ella

"Thanks for siccing Riggs on me," I snap, shoving open the door and making Kit jump from where he's standing behind his desk at the salon.

Nova, arms crossed as she leans against the edge of the counter, scowls. "First of all, Miss Set-Me-Up-With-My-Brother's-Teammate-Without-Telling-Your-Best-Friend-About-Your-Machinations?—"

"That's an absurdly long last name," I say, trying to distract her.

News flash—it doesn't work.

"Ha," she mutters, letting me know my attempt at a lame joke did nothing to veer her off course. " I'm your best friend. You saved me from drowning in a small, pathetic life and helped me find my place, my happiness. If you think I'm not going to do the same, with or without a side of stubborn, hot hockey player, you've lost your fucking mind."

"I'm fine," I lie. "I have a good thing going here. A good life." A beat. "Without Riggs."

He's too close.

They're all too close.

I need to retreat, need to build up my walls.

"You do have a good thing going," she agrees. "With us. With Riggs."

"I was wrong." I shrug. "He's nothing special."

"And you're a fucking liar."

"Nova," I begin.

She lifts her chin and marches to me, shoving a bag of apple fritters into my hand. I can smell the grease, the soft scent of the fruit, the spice of cinnamon, but for once, the vodka didn't sit right in my stomach and the idea of eating anything—even my favorite apple fritters—has bile burning in the back of my throat. Especially, when Nova's tone hardens and she says, "I never took you for a coward."

"Fuck you," I snap. "You know it's not that simple."

"Except it is, honey," she says, voice softening. "You want to be with him, you let him in. You let him help ."

Yeah, and then what happens when he leaves?

I thought for a bit there that things might be different, but the fucking universe smacked me right back into reality.

He'll leave.

And one day—maybe even today because I fucked up so badly—he'll look at me like my dad does.

And…I can't take that.

It's why I slipped out of bed this morning before he woke up.

I had to go— have to go.

Before he does.

That burns through me and it takes everything for me to not turn and walk right out of this salon.

To run out.

But I'm an Adler. I'm stubborn as fuck. I'll make the tough call, take the damage, and I'll keep going.

Even if I'm about to cry, dammit.

"I have a client," I say, blinking rapidly as I turn for the break room, intending to stow away my purse and coat. "I need to get ready." Need to shore up some walls so that I don't feel like I'm going to fall apart, going to shatter into a million pieces with the wrong gust of wind.

Nova curses softly then blows out a breath. "Ella, honey, I'm not trying to be a pushy jerk?—"

No. That's my job.

I start walking.

"It's just that you've spent the last couple of days shutting me out and I'm seriously worried about you."

"I'm fine."

She huffs out an unamused laugh as she draws up next to me. "Sure you are. That's why you've turned up here looking like you do."

Okay, now that's just rude.

"So I didn't have time to style my hair," I mutter.

Or do my makeup.

I think —strong emphasis on think —I brushed my teeth when I managed to peel myself out of bed sans eight million alarms because I didn't want to wake Riggs.

Didn't want to deal with knowing that I hurt him.

My eyes burn again, the nausea in my belly a hundred times worse as guilt eats away at my insides.

He opened up to me, made an effort to move beyond what happened to him, and…

I blew beyond all those boundaries.

Fucking pissed on them.

Because of my dad.

My heart squeezes.

No. Because of me.

I drank a bottle of vodka to numb my feelings then trod all over Riggs's.

"It's not your hair, sweets," Nova says quietly, moving closer, reaching for my cheek.

I skitter back and she freezes.

"It's that ." She exhales. "Did you…did you at least talk to Riggs about it?"

"Like I said," I mutter, starting for the back room again. "I'm fine."

She sighs, shakes her head, and I have to appreciate her tenacity—even though I'm the one currently putting up with it—when she says, "Kit squeezed me in for a blow dry just before your lunch break. I'll bring grilled cheese and soup, you can give me a trim, and then I can help?—"

Emotions are roiling in my belly and I can barely think straight. "I'm fine."

"It's done," she says on a shrug.

"Make it undone," I manage to grit out even though my head is spinning and I feel ready to collapse.

"No." She reaches for my arm, grips it tight.

"Stop, Nova."

Her fingers tighten and she steps closer. "Kit took the payment already and?—"

Something in me snaps.

" Kit is an idiotic puppy who doesn't know how to say no and has no spine to speak of."

Crash.

I spin, breaking her hold, turning from her aghast expression and seeing Kit—my sweet, lovely Kit —standing just a couple of feet away, his pale face telling me that he heard me, heard the bullshit I was spewing that I clearly don't mean.

My anger fades.

My guilt boils over.

He heard the vitriol that proves I'm a shitty person.

That I'm?—

"I need to go," he whispers, crouching and picking up the bottle of shampoo that exploded when he dropped it. "I'll get a towel and clean this up and then I need to go."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

"Kit," I say, moving toward him, bending to help him clean up the mess. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I just…I'm really in a messed up place, and?—"

He shifts away from me. "I need to go."

Fuck.

I reach for his hand, not surprised when he jerks it out of reach, when he slides back so I can't touch him.

I deserve that.

I deserve so much more than that.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I'm really, really sorry."

"I need to go," he says again.

Tears are flooding my vision as guilt slices through my middle over and over again. One burst of pain after another until I'm ready to beg the universe to intervene again, if only to help me feel nothing at all.

"Go," I tell him softly. "I'll clean this up. Just…do what you need to do."

He doesn't look at me when he nods, but I don't miss the tear sliding down his cheek, don't miss the way his shoulders have curled in on themselves, don't miss the ravaged expression when Nova takes his arm and guides him toward the door. "I'll drive you home," she murmurs, pausing on the threshold and looking over at me. "I'll be back," she says quietly.

I nod, but I'm already on my feet and heading for the storeroom.

Grabbing a towel and quickly disposing of the mess.

I ring up the bottle and pay for it, and then I spend the next fifteen minutes canceling and rebooking my clients, and somehow doing it with an even tone and plenty of apologies.

I manage to do all of that before Nova returns.

Which means that I'm able to make a clean getaway when I turn off my phone and leave the salon.

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