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“Thanks for getting the ball rolling on that.”
I sit across from Elijah and straighten an ivy plant he has on the corner of his desk. It was a present from Beau because apparently the two of them don’t have enough plants at their house.
“Tell me what’s up with Phoebe. Why won’t she return my calls?”
Elijah gulps so hard I hear it. But he doesn’t look up. “I don’t know.”
“Fine.” I get to my feet and sprint out of his office before he can figure out what I’m going to do and stop me.
Something’s wrong. Phoebe and I have a connection. She wouldn’t ghost me like this. We shared too much of ourselves with each other and I can’t sit around waiting any longer.
I’m going to Connecticut.
Chapter Thirteen
Ben
“She’s in her room. She never really comes out anymore.” Marjorie, Phoebe’s sorority sister, leads me through the house, shimmying her hips as if I’m going to notice her.
I didn’t fly across the country for her desperate ass. No. I’m here for Phoebe. I need to sort this out, if only to soothe my heart.
Elijah’s being weird. Phoebe won’t talk to me. And now I find out she’s barely leaving her room? What the hell’s going on?
“It’s just down this hall—”
“I know where to go.” I clear my throat and sigh when I see the shock on her face. “I mean, thank you.”
Marjorie points to another door. “If you don’t find what you want with Phoebe, I’m right over there.” She winks and saunters off as I shake my head to rid myself of that mental image.
“Phoebe?” I knock lightly and don’t get an answer.
A better person might have waited a few seconds or called first, but I’m too hurt to be that generous. She doesn’t answer my calls. Why would she answer when I knock?
The door opens easily and I slip inside.
The curtains are shut, giving the room a dusty, uncanny vibe from the hot summer sun trying to breach the thick fabric.
“Phoebe?”
My eyes adjust to the dim light, and I spot her huddled on the bed, not even under the covers.
All my anger evaporates.
I rush to her side and check for a fever, but she feels good. She looks weak, but not fragile. No. Phoebe, with her crown of red curls, could never look fragile. But something has her exhausted.
“Hey, princess. I’m here,” I croon, hoping my soothing voice will be enough to gloss over my impudent intrusion into her room.
She moans and rolls away from me. “I don’t want you here.”
I stare at her back and wonder where we went wrong. We started out so strongly. So promisingly. There aren’t any skeletons in my closet, so I know she didn’t find out something and decide I wasn’t worth being with.
The last time I was in this room, we were practically promising each other forever. I glance around, remembering her on all fours above me. The way we came home from the ball and collapsed in each other’s arms, and I slept soundly for the first time in my life.
How much different it is now.
Then, her room was tidy and well-kept. Now, it looks like I stumbled into a frat house, sans alcohol.
She’s not acknowledging me, so I busy myself with straightening up her nightstand.
