Reed
I was shaking by the time the Uber slowed to a halt in front of our mansion. My hands were ice cold, clenching and unclenching over and over in my lap. I told myself it was nerves. That it was just the natural anxiety that came before a confrontation. My thoughts raced in tight, frenzied circles as I tried to think of how I’d explain everything to Rayne—how I’d beg, cry, fall to my knees if I had to. I’d been rehearsing the apology the entire ride home, running through every possible emotion I could milk, every line I could weaponize with sincerity.
“I have no excuse, I understand now... I never meant to hurt you... Rayne, please... I love you—”
But the second my eyes landed on the front porch, all the air in my lungs vanished.
Bags.
Four of them.
Neatly packed. Lined up like f*
