Page 65 of Too Hostile

I wipe at my leaking eyes. “You knew my smile was an act?”

She hugs me to her again, wrapping her arms around me as best she can. “Oh, honey, of course. We all knew that. But it doesn’t make you fake. You always wanted to be happy. Circumstances just didn’t allow it.”

“I was really happy with him, Blair.”

“I know,” she says and hugs me close to her, kissing the top of my head. “What can I do to make it better?”

I smile sadly at that. “I don’t think you can this time.”

“That simply can’t be true,” she says, and I laugh because I can feel she’s in fix-it mode already.

“Please let it go.”

She lets out a soft, watery laugh and kisses my head again. “You’re my kid, and you’re hurting. That’s simply not possible, kiddo.”

I can’t help smiling into her hold because if anyone could fix it, it’d be Blair.

I just hope she doesn’t resort to blackmail and threats.

That would be kind of embarrassing, and I’m pretty sure Ronan is a little afraid of her already.

I mean, we’re all a little afraid of Blair.

She’s just the right amount of crazy.

Still, I really don’t think even Blair can fix this for me. He doesn’t want me enough to make it work.

I really need to let it go. Try to find some joy without him. I could probably do it.

Maybe.

Okay.

Maybe not.

RONAN

There’s a knock on my door, and since it’s Saturday, I haven’t even bothered to get dressed yet. I feel like shit, and for the first time in a long time, I just haven’t had the energy to get up out of bed before ten in the morning.

Now I’m regretting that, of course, because someone is at my door. Maybe it’s just a package. I just lie there in nothing but my boxer briefs under the covers and hope like hell they go away.

But the knock comes again.

Goddammit. If it’s Annie, she’s for sure going to call me on my bullshit. I don’t want to be fixed right now. I did the right thing. I let Fletcher go without wrecking his college career and my actual career.

It was what needed to happen, but that doesn’t mean I feel good about it. Not at all. I just want to wallow for a little bit longer.

I’m a grumbling mess as I grab a pair of sweats, hoping they’re clean, but I have no idea. I tug them on before grabbing a t-shirt and pulling it on over my head. I realize far too late, that it smells like Fletcher. That it’s one he borrowed after one of our many times in bed.

That’s just fucking great.

There’s another knock, and this one seems less patient. “I’m coming,” I grumble as I make my way down the hall to the front door. I don’t bother checking who it is before I pull the door open. When I see Fletcher standing there—looking as gorgeous as ever in a t-shirt and jeans since it’s a little cool today, his bright white smile nearly blinding me—I’m stunned stupid. “Fletcher?”

“Hey there, Professor.” The way he says that makes my entire body heat, familiarity and longing creeping up, but he’s not mine anymore. I let him go. What the hell is he doing here?

“What? Why are you...” I can’t seem to form words, and he looks amused as his grin widens. Damn, he looks good. Far too good. And I look godawful. This should be embarrassing, but I’m too tired to care. It’s obvious I’ve fallen apart since our breakup, and Fletcher is only thriving.

I’m happy for him. God, I just want him to be happy. I want him to have the best damn life, and it seems he’s living it. So why is he here?