Chapter 37

THIRTY-SEVEN

Mina

Fury mixes with sorrow as Nathan marches out of my room. I stand, panting, chest heaving, brain whirling. I've been awake all of ten minutes and everything has changed. Everything.

Last night he told me he loved me.

This morning he called me a whore.

He thinks I used him for personal gain when he was the one who came to me about faking a relationship.

If I'm a whore, it's because you made me one! I think, then scurry down the hallway, intent on hurling the statement his way. Instead, I watch through the window as Nathan lowers himself into his car, then clutch the wall for support as my knees go weak.

Tears gather and my fists clench and fuck him for making me feel like this. Fuck him for talking about love only to throw horrible words in my face. Fuck him for running away instead of sticking around for a hard conversation. Fuck him for giving me a glimpse of a dream come true, then slapping me in the face with reality.

And fuck me for being too much of a coward to be honest with him in the first place.

Dear God. What have I done? Regretfully, Mina Blake.

Shortly after Nathan leaves, I call the office and inform them I'll be working from home, which is definitely an overstatement of what will be happening. The chances of me actually working are small. I can't think clearly. My emotions are all over the place. I desperately need someone to talk to, but my support system is gone.

I can't talk to Fallon; she's part of the problem.

I'm not ready to talk to Nathan, and I'm gonna bet the feeling is mutual.

Mom has enough on her plate and isn't strong enough to handle my emotional turmoil. Since that sums up my list of trusted confidants, it looks like I'm on my own for this one.

With a wry twist of my head, I pull on my sweats, go to the store to stock up on ice cream, and hunker down for the weekend.

The day fades and so does my anger, leaving a queasy trail of guilt in its wake.

This fiasco is on me.

I knew I needed to tell Nathan Fallon was my friend. And I knew it was going to be ugly when I did, which is why I kept putting it off. But instead of hearing it from me, he finds her in my bedroom first thing in the morning while wearing my underwear after discovering his cousin is missing.

That's ugly stacked on ugly stacked on ugly, compliments of yours truly.

Nathan reacted badly, but who could blame him? Considering the circumstances, a saint wouldn't have done better.

With a sigh, I swipe my phone off the table.

I'm so so so so so sorry. I can't stop thinking about you. I miss you. I'd love to talk when you're feeling up to it

Nathan

I'm not feeling up to it.

For what it's worth, I haven't been manipulating you

If that's true, I'm sorry I called you a whore for clicks.

It is true.

And I just now realized you said you're not feeling up to talking and I'm making you talk anyway.

When you're ready, I'm here.

I wait for signs of a response that never come, then lock my phone with a sigh and head to the freezer for another pint of ice cream.