Noah turns me in a quarter circle. “Four to the right, seven forward to get to Hunter.”
I don’t feel as unsure as I did when we started this practice and walk a little faster. When I should be standing by Hunter, I ask, “And? Did I do it right?”
“Yeah,” Hunter murmurs, his voice hoarse. “You totally did it. I’m right here.” I feel him take hold of my arm.
“Great, let’s do this again,” Noah orders.
“How many times?” I ask.
“Until you can do it without me having to remind you of how many steps to take.”
I keep practicing the steps until it feels like I’m almost walking normally.
“Now for the rest of the suite,” Noah says, popping my little bubble of pride.
“Are you serious?” I ask. “Can’t we take a break?”
“Nope.”
“You gotta stop popping your ‘p’ like that,” I complain.
“Nope,” the fucker teases me.
“Where do you want us?” Jase asks.
“Jase, you stand at the end of the hallway. Hunter, you take the kitchen.”
Noah guides me into the hallway, then I hear Mila ask, “What are you doing?”
“We’re helping Kao get used to moving around the suite,” Jase fills her in.
“Can I help?”
“Sure,” Noah answers. “You can go stand in the living room.”
“Hold up,” Mila says, and then she calls out, “Jade, Hana, Fallon, get your butts out here.”
Fuck.
“What’s up?” Jade asks.
“Yeah?” I hear Hana.
“Where’s Fallon?” Mila asks.
“She’s… sleeping,” Hana answers. I don’t miss the pause, and it makes me think Fallon might be avoiding me. Not that I can complain. It’s what I wanted.
Still sucks, though.
“Hana, go stand by the front door and Jade, stand in front of Kao’s room.”
When everybody’s taken their positions, Noah walks through the suite with me, counting all the different steps. It feels like hours have passed by the time I have an idea of how far apart everything is.
Before I can head back toward my room, Jase takes hold of my arm. “You need to talk to Fallon.”
I know. It’s unavoidable.
I suck in a deep breath, then nod.
“Fifteen steps to her door,” Jase murmurs.
Reaching to my left so I can feel the wall, I take the fifteen steps. When I feel the door, I glance back to where Jase is.
“Yeah, just knock,” he answers my silent question.
I take a moment to steel myself. It’s going to gut me talking to Fallon, but it has to be done. I knock on the door, and when there’s no answer, I say, “Hana said she’s sleeping. I’ll try later again.”
I begin to turn in the direction of my own room when I hear the door open, and her scent drifts to me. Sucking it up, I ask, “Can we talk?”
“Yeah,” she answers softly, her voice sounding broken.
Hearing how she’s hurting sends a wave of pain through my chest.
Knowing the layout of Fallon’s bedroom and that it’s always clean, I take five steps inside, then pause.
I hear her shut the door and feel her move closer to me.
“I’m glad you agreed to have the surgery,” she says, sounding anxious.
Christ, I hate that she’s uncomfortable around me.
When I remain silent, Fallon asks, “What do you want to talk about?”
She sounds exhausted and… raw.
“It can wait until you feel better,” I answer.
She lets out a sigh. “The bed is to your left. Can I help you?”
I reach a hand in her direction, and when her fingers wrap around mine, and I move closer to her, my self-restraint slips, and I almost give in to my need to hold her.
She helps me to the bed, and it serves as a wake-up call. This is precisely what I don’t want for Fallon – her having to look after my grown-ass as if I’m a baby.
I sit down and then try to gather my thoughts.
“It’s been a shit week,” I mutter, not sure how to start this conversation.
“Yeah,” she agrees.
I feel her sit down next to me.
“Do you know when the surgery will be?” Fallon asks.
“Thursday.” Leaning forward, I rest my forearms on my thighs and clasp my hands together. “I’m sorry.”
I’m so fucking sorry.
“You have a lot to deal with,” she excuses my behavior.
Shaking my head, I suck in a deep breath, and then I ask the question I’ve been dreading, “Can we go back to being friends?”
I hear her swallow. “What do you mean?”
Fuck, this is hard.
“Just friends, Fallon. Nothing more.” The words weigh a ton. It’s filled with remorse, heartache, and loss. I know she’ll keep fighting for us if I don’t force her to walk away from me, and it has me lying, “It’s not like we dated. We weren’t in a relationship. We’re just going back to the way things were.”
“But…” I hear her breaths speed up. “You asked me on a date. There was more between us,” she argues.
My stubborn fighter.
I close my eyes as another wave of pain moves through me.