Coffee gives me enough energy to text Kit.
Piper: Can we talk?
I fix another cup and stare.
I make oatmeal and stare.
I finish my food, make even more coffee, and continue to stare.
Ethan bounces downstairs, hugs me good morning a thousand times, makes coffee and eggs, gushes about Violet.
I continue to stare.
Mal joins us, eats his cold eggs, makes tea, teases Ethan about how much he's gushing over Violet.
I stare.
When we join Ethan to check out apartments—he's actually thinking of moving out slash moving in with Violet—I don't stare. But I do feel my phone in my pocket, against my thigh, immobile.
It should be buzzing with a text, an explanation of some kind.
I should be excited for Ethan. Or upset that he's leaving. Or both.
But I don't feel anything. I can't taste my lunch. I can't smell the salty ocean air. I can't laugh over how many celebrity spottings my brothers endure at the mall across from Ethan's potential new place.
It's not until I'm home, alone, in my bed, that I see a text from Kit.
Kit: We should take a break from talking like this.
That's it.
All night.
The next day.
The day after.
That's all he says.
Chapter 14
Kit
I'm miserable.
I'm miserable and it's entirely my fault.
It's been three days since Piper came on my face. As fucking fantastic as that was, it's not what's standing out in my mind.
She looked so hurt, like I was taking her heart with me when I left.
I promised her I wouldn't leave a dozen times and I fucking did.
I hate that I left.
But I would have fucked her if I'd stayed. And that would be it.
This is what's best for both of us.