I look in the mirror, and I can practically see her reflection staring back at me asking why.
Why would I hurt her like this?
I was the one who didn’t want to have sex right away, yet I’m the one who claimed her. I’m the one who bit her. I took away her autonomy. I took away her ability to decide for herself, and then I rejected her and hurt her.
Shit.
I feel like I’m about two inches tall.
Walking to the window, I peer out. The storm is still raging, but maybe I should risk it. Maybe I should go anyway. Can I really spend an entire night in this house?
With her?
Moving back to the bedroom, I pull my clothing back on and lie down on the bed.
Maybe if I close my eyes, I won’t keep picturing the way she came apart for me.
Maybe I won’t think about the way she made me feel like I was on top of the world.
Maybe...
WHEN I WAKE UP A FEW hours later, the storm has ended. I go over to the guest room and knock on the door. She doesn’t answer, and I push the door open, but just as I suspect, Meredith is nowhere to be found. She’s gone.
Entering the room, I can still smell her emotions from when she was in here. She was hurt, and she was sad, and she was in pain. Not physical pain: emotional pain, and somehow, that’s so much worse.
“Wow, I fucked up.” I speak to the empty room, and then I hear a voice behind me.
“You can say that again.”
It’s not Meredith, though. It’s Foxy.
I spin around to see the slender redhead standing in the doorway.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, surprised.
“I could ask you the same question,” she says.
“Could you? I mean, I’m pretty sure it’s obvious.” I gesture to my second-day walk-of-shame clothing. There’s no way Foxy missed the wrinkled clothing or the sloppily-buttoned shirt.
There’s literally no way.
“Why are you still here?” Foxy asks. “Haven’t you done enough damage?”
Any goodwill I may have incurred from helping her brother is obviously gone now. Foxy has no interest in talking to me or in me being here at all. Great.
I put my hands on my hips, though, and stare down the girl.
“I don’t think you know what you’re talking about.”
“No?” She raises an eyebrow. “So you didn’t mark my friend and then push her away immediately after you staked your claim?”
“Okay, so maybe you know what you’re talking about.”
Foxy sighs and runs a hand through her hair.
“Look, Doc, you seem like a nice guy.”
“You can drop the formalities.”