Wes
I slap the door with my palm. The nerves in my hand ignite, searing through my wrist until it’s left throbbing and numb. I had hoped the pain would help ease the anger boiling inside me, but it doesn’t. It only makes me want to hit something else. Harder.
How did things blow up so fast? One minute, Sawyer’s in my arms, kissing me like she’s starved. The next she’s running away, determined to believe the past doesn’t exist. My version of it anyway.
I know I hurt her with that comment about our timing being bad and needing to wait to get serious, but it’s like that’s the only part of the conversation she remembers. Regardless, she won’t even give me a chance to explain why I said it in the first place. Does that leave any hope for us to have a future?
Shit. Maybe coming back here was
