Chapter 210

Letting Go of the Noise

The shower doesn't help.

I stay under the hot spray until my fingers wrinkle, until the smell of chili and french fries is long gone. My skin is pink from the hot water, but my nerves are still on fire. My heart hasn't stopped hammering in my chest, regardless of how much I try to calm my

breathing.

The shame won't rinse off. The cruel words still echo loud in my ears.

Whore. Slut. Desperate.

I tug on a clean set of pajamas and twist my wet hair into a towel. I'm so tired, but I know

I won't be able to sleep like this. Not with my chest feeling like it's full of shattered glass. Not with my stomach still turning.

Might as well get my stupid ice cream.

I make my way down the hallway quietly, heading to the kitchen. The house is mostly dark, but Zaid has turned on the warm under cabinet lights, casting a soft golden glow across the counters.

Zaid's sitting at the island, hunched over his sandwich. He hasn't taken a bite, he's sort of just staring at it.

His eyes lift when I walk in, and I don't miss the way they flick down my body in a slow, heated, lingering gaze. It's just a second too long.

I feel it like a spark against my skin. But then he blinks, clears his throat, and pushes back his stool, standing up. I'm left with my stomach tightening and my breath shallow.

He walks over to the fridge, opening the freezer and reaches into it. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

He pulls out the dented pint of ice cream and grabs a spoon without needing to ask me.

I sit on a stool with a sigh, resting my elbows on the counter. "Sadie happened." He pauses. His jaw ticks.

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Letting Go of the Noise

"Of course she did," he mutters, opening the cabinet for a bowl. "She's a bitch."

me bristle, sending my skin

leans his head back against the cabinet like the weight of everything suddenly hits him. "I'm sorry, you know? For everything. For

He's apologized for it

it's not what

about Sadie," I

gives me the bowl and sits down beside me, eating his

minute. His strong

ear that I know by heart. The one I used to

stomach twists. I want him. More than ice cream.

trying to

I ask,

flick to mine,

really slept at all

doesn't finish

He doesn't have to.

exactly what he

And it hurts.

his sandwich, he still doesn't get up. I finish the last spoonful of ice cream slowly,

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of

quietly slide off the stool and walk to the sink, rinsing my bowl.

lights up. My heart hammers. They don't listen to the logic my brain is trying so

turn to him, but can't find the courage to life my

I whisper, before slipping

on the stairs, the house hushed and

the door clicking

turned toward my side of the bed, chest rising and falling

steady rhythm. I peel back the covers and slide in beside

pulling it back around my waist, needing the weight of

him. Just the touch

as soon as his arm drapes around

he mumbles, voice groggy

whisper, stroking his

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