6
Fifteen minutes after Brook hung up on me, I still held my mobile in a death grip, my mood at rock bottom from the call having ended with me mid-complaint.
Again.
All of our calls, lately, seemed to end that way, with my damn gripes and grumbles plummeting whatever tone we’d set.
Rubbing a hand across my face, I let out a low groan, pissed at myself for not having the chance to apologise, to tell Brook I missed her, that I—that I what?
I gave another groan.
I’d had the chance—I’d had plenty—and I’d blown it by whining instead.
“Way to go, Romeo.” I tossed the phone up into the air and ducked my head aside before it could smack my temple on descent. It hit the pillow beneath me, bouncing off and landing on the floor with a quiet thud.
As I rolled to my side, hand reaching to grab
