“Fine by me,” I snap, a familiar shame burning inside me, even though the only thing I’ve ever done is fight every damn day to prove I’m nothing like my criminal family.
She hesitates, maybe doubting herself a little, but not enough to stay.
"I should go. Ihaveto go." Her voice is quiet, sad, and I feel like punching the wall in frustration. She’s made up her mind, and there’s nothing I can do.
And with a mixture of anger and humiliation bubbling inside me, I don’t try to convince her to stay.
Maybe I’ve got this all wrong, and she’s not who I thought she was. Because surely the one for me wouldn’t treat me like this, wouldn’t be able to walk away.
"You’re right. You should." Bitterness has overtaken whatever stupid hope I had.
I'm already pulling on my shirt, grabbing my jacket, and shoving my wallet back in my pocket. I can't stay here and sleep in sheets covered in her scent. I guess tonight’s my first night crashing at the office.
She's still standing at the door when I march toward it, her hand on the knob, and for a second, she looks as torn as I feel.
We stand face to face in the narrow hallway where I had her pinned to the door just hours before. I can hear her heart pounding. I wait, giving her one last chance to change her mind and stop this madness.
Instead, she says, "This is your room. You don’t need to walk me out.”
"I’m not,” I say dryly, “but I’m definitely not staying here."
She nibbles her lip and lifts her hand, like she’s going to reach out and touch me, before curling her fingers into her palm and stepping back. "Look, maybe I… I mean, you understand…"
I cut her off, too wounded now to hear whatever justification she's about to offer. She’s more worried about what people might say than about what this could potentially be, and that tells me all I need to know.
“What it’s like to have people treat you like shit because of your last name? Yes, I understand completely.” I tip my head at the door, the animal inside driving at me to get out and get away. “Move.”
She doesn’t. “Whisky, I… it’s my career…” She pauses. “I don’t want to leave it like this.”
I cringe at the endearment, which now makes what happened here feel cheap and sleazy. Maybe it’s because she’s human, or maybe it’s because it’s not really there, but either way, she clearly didn’t feel the same things I did.
This was nothing but a one-night stand for her.
"You know what? I haven't done a single thing wrong. You’re the one who fucked this up, so don’t make me feel bad for leaving.” I reach past her for the door handle. “Move, please.”
She steps aside slowly, eyes lowered.
“See you around, Detective.”
I step out into the hallway, slamming the door behind me. I’m halfway down the hall when it reopens, her soft footsteps muffled by the thick carpet as she steps out into the corridor, but she doesn’t follow me or chase after me and beg me to stay.
So, I don't look back.
3
LISA
Ihold the door open, watching as his long legs eat up the distance to the stairwell at the end of the hall, and as he pushes through without a backward glance, the door slams shut behind him.
The silence that follows is deafening.
“Shit.”
I duck back inside the room and stand frozen, staring at the messed-up bed, my heart pounding. The sheets are tangled. One pillow is on the floor. A lamp lies on its side next to the bedside locker.
Should I stay? Try to talk to him when he comes back?
If he comes back.