(Aspen’s POV)
I stood in the doorway long after Slade left.
The door was still open. Cold air spilled in, biting at my bare feet, but I didn’t move to close it. I didn’t move at all.
My ears rang.
My chest felt hollow, like something had been scooped out and forgotten.
Then my knees buckled.
I dropped to the floor, palms hitting the wood hard enough to sting, and the sound that came out of me was ugly and broken and real. I pressed my forehead to the ground and cried like I hadn’t let myself cry in months.
“I’m so stupid,” I whispered to the empty room. “I’m so stupid.”
It was my fault.
All of it.
I should’ve known better. I should’ve asked. I should’ve remembered that this wasn’t my home, no matter how safe it had started to feel. No matter how warm the lights looked at night. N
