Thirty-Eight
Max stumbled back a step, so fast, he might as well have held his hand to a hot stove and not the softness of Freya’s neck. He dropped his palm, his lips dragging heavy at the corners, no doubt sending forth one monster of a frown.
Have you ever considered that maybe you’re depressed?
What an odd thing to say.
And in the middle of a breakup.
Besides, if it were true, shouldn’t his supposed depression be another reason for her to stay?
Only if I plan on having the overly dependent relationship she just said she didn’t want.
No. That’s not what I want at all.
Her suggestion about his mental health knocked around in his head, the sounds of rushing traffic and pedestrians passing only adding to his confusion. He’d never considered that maybe there was more to his behavior
