Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)(12)

“What are you doing here?” There are no pleasantries, no softness in my tone.

Her brows furrow in confusion as if she’s asking herself what I’m doing here.

I throw my thumb over my shoulder, pointing at my house. “I live here, Hallie. So again, what are you doing here?”

Her eyes go impossibly wide as she takes a step back. “But I live here.”

“No, you don’t? Wren doesn’t—”

Her new roommate.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

I take a step closer, panic taking over. “Did you know I live next door? Is that why you’re here?”

She scoffs, arms unfolding, hands anchoring at her hips. “Are you joking? I’ve tried to avoid you since I moved to Chicago. You think I’d purposefully move next door? To what? Be close to you? Relive our childhood? No thanks, Rio. I’m good off that.”

There she is. I remember that ferocity.

Since I moved to Chicago.

“When did you move to Chicago?” I say it as if I have every right to know the answer, and a part of me feels like I do. She knew I lived here. She should’ve warned me.

Her chin tilts up defiantly. “April.”

She’s been here for six months?

“And you didn’t think you should tell me?”

“And say what?” She exhales a laugh. “ ‘Hey, remember me? That girl you hate. Yeah, I moved to Chicago! Let’s get drinks!’ It’s been six years, Rio. You don’t own this city, and I don’t owe you a phone call. And besides, even if I did, I lost your number years ago.”

That feels like a fucking punch to the gut and hurts more than I want to admit. No, we haven’t spoken since I left Boston, but there were a few times in my first year here that I may have tried to call Hallie, but her line was disconnected.

I hadn’t allowed myself to try again since.

Tension lingers between us, neither of us knowing what to say.

“You can’t live here,” is what I finally decide on.

“I don’t have much of a choice.”

“The city is fucking huge. There are other options rather than the house ten feet away from mine, Hallie.”

Her lips purse in anger, her jaw setting in place. Oh, she’s fuming now.

“I don’t have other options. Not all of us get to make millions of dollars a year playing a game, Rio. Some of us are just trying to survive paycheck to paycheck. So yes, I will be living next door and trust me, it’s not because I want to be anywhere close to you. I’ll be here until May when Wren’s brother sells the house, and if that’s going to be an issue for you, you can go ahead and take some of those millions of dollars you have and buy yourself a new place to live.”

She wants me to buy a new place? That’s my plan. That’s exactly why I hired—

Wait.

No, she can’t be.

Everything clicks. The roommate. The designer. Hallie always wanted to be an interior designer. She was going to school for it the last time we saw one another.

“Are you the one who renovated Wren’s house?” I ask, accusatorily.

Her face balls in confusion and I watch as the realization dawns on her the same way it did me. Head falling back, exposing that pretty throat, she squeezes her eyes closed. “And you’re the neighbor.”

Fuck.

“Well, that’s not going to work,” she decides.

“Yeah. No shit, that’s not going to work.”

She jolts back slightly, as if my words hurt her. We were always careful with each other until we weren’t. Hallie is a soft soul with a tough shell, and that exterior seems harder than it used to be.

Regardless of our history, I never wanted to see her hurting.

She hurt you.

“You know that wouldn’t work, Hal.”

“Don’t call me that.”

I hold my hands up in surrender. “Hallie. We both know it wouldn’t work for you to be at my house every day. I cannot hire you.”

A beat passes between us.

“I know.” Her tone is defeated.

The silence is thick again, every part of this interaction feeling fucking surreal. I never thought I’d be standing in front of her again.

She’s so goddamn beautiful. So hardheaded still. For a moment, I let myself remember how overwhelming it felt to be near her. She used to steal all my thoughts. She used to occupy my entire existence.

I almost forgot what that felt like.

I’ve spent six years subconsciously comparing every date to her. Comparing their laugh to hers. Their kindness to hers. Their confidence to hers. Their taste in music to hers.

I haven’t spoken Hallie’s name in six years, but she has been living rent free in my mind while I try to replicate what we had before everything went to shit.

I need to walk away. Go pack a bag and move in with Ryan and Indy until May.

“Let’s just stay out of each other’s way,” she says, breaking the silence. “You’ll hardly even know I’m here.”

“No chance of that happening,” I mutter under my breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.”

My eyes find hers, unspoken words passing between us. There’s too much history between me and the girl next door, and there’s something else that my friends don’t know.