29 - SILENCE

29 - SILENCE


Cheryl’s POV

"I need you to move out."

Damon’s words knocked the wind out of me. I blinked, half-expecting him to take it back, to laugh and say he was joking, but his expression remained set in stone. He wasn’t joking. My stomach twisted uncomfortably, a mix of shock and... something else.

I folded my arms, forcing a scoff. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he said, his voice firmer this time. “You need to move out, Cheryl.”

I shook my head, laughing dryly. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m very serious.”

I searched his face for any trace of doubt, any sign that he was just being dramatic because he’d walked in on me and Aiden looking like we were about to—God, we really almost kissed, didn’t we? I mentally shook the thought away and focused on Damon’s clenched jaw, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. He was pissed, but this? Kicking me out? That was extreme, even for him.

“You’re overreacting,” I said, trying to keep my voice even.

Damon exhaled sharply through his nose. “I don’t think I am.”

I wanted to fight it. I wanted to argue and tell him that this was ridiculous. But the truth settled in like an anchor sinking to the bottom of the ocean.

Maybe he was right. Maybe moving out was exactly what I needed.

Aiden had started invading my mind more than I cared to admit, and the feelings I had for him—no, the stupid crush I was trying to push aside—was making my life messier than it needed to be.

I hadn’t even been paying rent.

Damon wasn’t wrong to ask this of me, and in a way, it was probably the only way I could finally get Aiden out of my head. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

I let out a long breath, dropping my arms. “Fine. But I’ll have to get a new place first. It’ll take some time.”

Damon opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand. “And no, I’m not moving in with you. And no, you are not paying my rent.”

His jaw tightened, his lips pressing together before he gave a curt nod.

I was about to say something else when the front door suddenly swung open.

Aiden.

He stalked out, his steps purposeful, his body radiating barely contained anger. His gaze flickered to mine for a split second, something unreadable flashing through his dark eyes before he looked away. His lip was still bleeding, a tiny streak of red trailing from the corner of his mouth. But instead of wiping it away, he licked the blood off with a smirk that made my stomach twist.

Without a word, he shoved his keys into the ignition, revved the engine, and peeled out of the driveway like the devil himself was chasing him.

I didn’t know where he was going, and I didn’t know why the sight of him leaving made my chest ache.

But I ignored it.

Because this was good. This was necessary.

I was going to move out. I was going to get my own place. I was going to get Aiden out of my head for good.

That was the plan.

Later That Night

The clock on the wall read 12:17 AM.

Aiden still wasn’t home.

I told myself I wasn’t waiting for him. I wasn’t.

I was just… awake. Wide awake, on the couch, legs curled beneath me as the TV played some mindless late-night sitcom I wasn’t even watching. I wasn’t waiting for him. That would be stupid.

I was just going to tell him I was moving out. The earlier I got it out, the easier it would be. Right?

A part of me told me I should just go to bed. That this conversation could wait until morning. But for some reason, I stayed put, hugging a throw pillow as if it would keep me from spiraling into my own thoughts.

Then the door clicked.

My head snapped toward it as Aiden stepped inside.

And he wasn’t alone.

A blonde woman—tall, gorgeous, wearing a tight red dress and heels that screamed I get everything I want—was practically hanging off his arm.

Aiden himself was a mess. His hair was tousled, his shirt half-buttoned, and he reeked of whiskey and regret.

I felt my stomach drop, a sharp, unexpected ache that I had no right feeling.

He wasn’t mine.

I wasn’t his.

I had no right.

But God, it still hurt.

We locked eyes.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. He looked surprised, like he hadn’t expected me to still be awake. And I—well, I just stared at him like a fool, feeling something shatter quietly inside me.

“You’re still up?” he finally said, his voice low, careless.

I said nothing.

He turned to the blonde on his arm. “That’s my roommate,” he started, his voice dripping with something I couldn’t quite place. “Cheryl Taylor. We went to high school together—used to bully her a lot.”

I swallowed hard, keeping my lips pinned together.

“Small world, right?” he added with a chuckle, still talking, still digging the knife in deeper.

That was enough.

I wasn’t going to sit here and listen to him pretend I didn’t exist beyond some stupid, drunken anecdote.

“I have to tell you something,” I said, my voice stronger than I expected.

Aiden paused, blinking at me.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “You’re not about to confess your feelings for me, are you, Cheryl? Because I really don’t want another Hulk boss barging in and punching me square in the face.”

The way he said it, so lightly, so arrogantly, like it was some kind of joke—God, it made me want to scream.

I shook my head, willing my voice to stay even. “Well, that won’t be your problem anymore.”

His smile faltered slightly. “What?”

“I’m moving out.”

Silence.

Absolute, deafening silence.

The blonde woman—who had, up until now, been content giggling at whatever drunken nonsense Aiden was spewing—stiffened slightly, sensing the shift in the air.

Aiden just stared at me.

The amusement faded from his eyes, replaced by something else entirely.

I didn’t let myself think about what that something else was.