He looks back at me, eyes full but silent. “Just give me some space,” he whispers. “Just … I’m an adult, okay?”
It hurts like hell, but I leave without riding him anymore. I was sort of hoping he’d suggest grabbing a bite or something, but I can tell he’s not in the mood for that. And I’m not about to be the clingy big sister.
Then I leave, feeling both more lost and angrier than I did when I arrived. Outside Wyatt’s room, the shirtless kid is leaning against the wall, tossing a baseball from hand to hand. “Hey, babe,” he says. “Wanna—”
I snag the baseball from midair and toss it over my shoulder. “Go fetch,” I say, stalking down the hallway.
I walk into the late-autumn air and try to calm down. The truth is I need to blow off some steam. I feel fidgety with too much work, with all the
