Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
NATHAN
It’s been five days since Thea moved in with me, and we’ve done everything to avoid each other’s company.
The only time I’ve seen her outside of her room is when she comes out to get something to eat from the kitchen or we accidentally run into each other in the hallway when she needs to use the bathroom.
For the rest of the time, I’ve been busying myself at work or she’s been over at Fletcher and Dylan’s house.
It’s becoming a routine, this unspoken distance between us.
It’s almost as if we’re both afraid to confront the awkwardness that has settled since she moved in, and I find myself starting to regret the offer.
It felt like the right thing to do at the time, but I wonder if I did it more for my own benefit or because I didn’t want to make her feel put out after Dylan made the not so subtle suggestion she stay with me.
I keep telling myself it’s for the best—maybe some time and space will help us both figure things out.
I need to remind myself that she’s hurting for reasons that for once, don’t have to do with me.
I can sometimes hear her through the wall that separates our rooms as she cries into her pillow, likely thinking it muffles out the sound.
It’s hard, though, knowing she’s in pain and feeling so helpless.
I want to reach out, but the silence between us feels impenetrable.
She isn’t mine to comfort, but I never thought it would be like this.
The house is too quiet, too big with all the empty space between us.
It’s like we’re both living parallel lives under the same roof.
Two strangers who happen to share a past; a past that feels like it belongs to someone else now.
I can’t help but think about the way she used to light up a room.
The easy laughter, the casual conversations we’d have that never seemed forced.
I miss that Thea. I miss the connection we once had, the friendship that used to feel so natural.
But now, even the smallest attempts at conversation feel like I’m walking on eggshells.
I’ve tried to talk to her a few times, but it’s always met with short answers or distant glares.
I’m starting to wonder if my presence is stunting the healing she’s fighting so hard for, since I’m responsible for past traumas, too.
Maybe I should just let her have the house and go stay in a hotel.
It’s not like I don’t have the funds to be able to afford it.
I don’t know. But I also know it would’ve been just as easy to post her up in a hotel like she wanted from the beginning, and there is a reason I didn’t offer.
Because even if she hates me, I want her around.
She wouldn’t have accepted the money from me anyway.
I’ve thought about talking to Dylan, or even Fletcher, but I know it’s not my place or my business, and I also know that there is every likelihood she’s already told them and I don’t know what I’ll be met with if she has.
Today, when I pass by her room, I hear her sniffling, and my heart breaks.
I stand there for a moment, contemplating the catastrophe this decision could make.
I don’t know if she wants to talk or if she just wants to be left alone.
I don’t know if I can make it better, but I know I can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine.
I take a deep breath, gather what little courage I have left, and knock on her door.
The sniffling stops and I stand there for what feels like minutes turned to hours.
I’m just about to walk away when I hear the door handle turn, her red-rimmed eyes peering out at me.
She doesn’t speak, instead just staring at me with a hollowness I’ve only seen on her face once in the past.
“I know of this really great takeout place. I was thinking about ordering something and thought I’d offer…” Really? That’s the best I could come up with? I was probably better off keeping my mouth shut. Better yet, I should’ve never knocked.
But before I can retreat, she opens the door more.
Her eyes are puffy, her face still drawn with the weight of everything she’s been through, and yet she says nothing.
She just looks at me, silent and guarded.
There’s a chill in her gaze, but it’s not the kind that demands distance.
It’s the kind that just doesn’t know what to do with me standing here, offering something, anything.
The kind that happens after bone-deep exhaustion.
“I just thought that you might be hungry. You haven’t come out today.” I force the words out, hoping they don’t sound as awkward or as desperate as they feel. I want to say more, but nothing seems right. I’m afraid if I do, she will slam the door in my face, changing her mind.
Her eyes flicker to the side, looking at something in her room while she weighs her response.
“Fine,” she says at last, her voice tight but not unkind.
She doesn’t say anything else. No ‘thank you’.
No questions. Just a gesture as if telling me to move out of the way so she can leave her room and follow me back down the hallway.
I clear my throat as I turn on my heels and walk back to the kitchen.
When I turn around, I offer her the menu from the takeout place, trying to make the moment less heavy.
Something mundane we can both pretend matters.
But she doesn’t reach for it. She just looks at it, then glances away.
“I don’t want food,” she says flatly, her voice still raw.
“Then what do you want?” I ask, the words slipping out without a thought. Give me something, Thea. Anything, the voice inside my head pleads.
Her eyes flick to mine, before she turns around and starts walking back down the hallway.
“I want things to be different. I want everything to be different.” The words are almost too quiet for me to hear over her retreating steps.
But they hit their intended target, the meaning beneath them meant for so much more than her present.
I just stand there, watching as she walks away from me, and I don’t stop her or try to make her stay.
As her door clicks shut behind her, I can’t help but wonder if I ever had a chance to make things right at all.
But then I have to remember, even if she didn’t stay, she met me without hostility.
She came out of that room. It’s progress, and I’m gonna take what I can get.
The next day, I wake up to a text message from Dylan letting me know that they’re planning on going out tonight and that I’m required to come.
But that is a recipe for disaster. I’m surprised Fletcher even agreed to it—likely only under the guise that he’s there to keep an eye on them, which is probably why I’m getting the invite, too.
Fletcher and I are getting far too old for this shit, but that’s what he gets for setting his sights on Dylan.
That fourteen-year age gap between the two of them makes the seven between Thea and I look a hell of a lot better.
The text message sits there on my screen, blinking up at me.
I can imagine Dylan’s grin when she sent it, knowing damn well that if I ignore it, she will show up here or make Fletcher walk to the house and force the issue.
He’s probably the only reason I’m even considering it.
We haven’t talked much this week at all; I’ve been holing myself up and keeping myself busy to avoid…
well, everything. I sigh and sit up, rubbing a hand down my face.
As much as I’d like to skip it, I know I won’t.
I type out my message and send it back. If it’s a chance to be around Thea, whether she wants me there or not, I’m willing to tolerate pretty much anything.
I’ll be there.
Maybe it’ll be fine, maybeit won’t. But one thing’s for sure…
Somebody’s truth is going to come out tonight.
I don’t know how I know, but it’s a feeling that has settled in my gut.
The tension that’s been building all week with the secrets that Thea and I are harboring from each other, and Dylan and Fletcher?
After a few drinks, one of them is bound to slip.