I looked up at Wes, his blue eyes filled with quiet concern. He was studying me, searching my face like he could piece together all the things I wasn’t saying.
I forced a smile, shrugging one shoulder. "Yeah. I'm good."
His lips pressed together slightly, like he still wasn’t buying it. And why would he? I’d spent the entire week locked in my room, barely responding to his texts. I’d canceled my Tuesday night stream, claiming the painkillers made me too sick and drowsy, but we both knew that was bullshit. He hadn’t pushed me on it then, but now? Now he was here, sitting on my bed, watching me like I was a puzzle he was trying to solve.
"I've been worried about you," he admitted, running a hand through his hair.
I swallowed hard, guilt settling in my chest. "I’m sorry," I murmured, drop
