I’ve fucking liked her for a while.
She wasn’t some random to me.
You’re amazing, and I’ve thought about that night so goddamn much.
She’s not like other girls, but I’m just not into the dating and commitment thing.
On the one hand, his words today matched those of five weeks ago. He’s wanted me for a while . . . but he certainly hasn’t shown any interest in me or sought me out since that night. He’s probably been back out there hooking up. Back to his normal MO.
Continuing, I say, “Hornsby has his own schedule, and it’s a bachelor’s schedule. It works for him. There is no way he’d move in here. I think I’ll be lucky if—”
Knock. Knock.
Blakely and I turn toward the door and then glance at each other.
“Bet that’s Pacey,” Blakely says. “I’m sure he has a litany of apologies to make.”
He sure does, but I don’t know if I have the energy to hear them tonight. Do I believe I went about telling him the correct way? Probably not. I was selfish in the moment and wanted to get it over with, so telling them at the same time seemed like the best option for me, but I should have told them separately. I should have pulled Hornsby to the side and explained everything to him, let it soak in, and then when he was mentally ready, we could have told Pacey. But fear and anxiety took over my decision-making.
I probably should jump on the apology train, too, because that wasn’t fair to them.
Not at all.
“Do you want me to get the door?” Blakely asks.
“No, I’ll get it. But depending on his mood, you should be prepared to leave or stay.”
She chuckles. “Mentally preparing for both.”
I shed the warm blanket from my body and then stand from the couch. The sharp movement causes me to rock back as I attempt to catch my balance. Dizziness beats through me, and before I know it, I’m collapsing back on the couch.
“Holy shit,” Blakely says, coming up to me. “Are you okay?”
I blink a few times as the room spins around me. “Uh, yeah . . . wow, just really dizzy.”
“Don’t move.” Blakely goes to the door, and I turn in that direction just as she opens it, revealing not only Pacey but Hornsby as well. At his side are two suitcases, one large one, one medium one, and his travel bag.
What on earth does he think he’s doing?
“Hey, is Penny here?” Pacey asks just as he spots me on the couch. He pushes through the door, and Hornsby follows him, maneuvering his luggage into the small entryway.
“She just got really dizzy,” Blakely says, which of course alarms Pacey.
He quickly sits on the coffee table in front of me and leans forward, placing his hand on my knee. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” I say, sitting up taller. “Just stood up too fast is all. Nothing to worry about.”
Pacey’s jaw clenches as he glances back at Hornsby and Blakely. “This is what I was afraid of. Something happening to you and not having anyone here to help.”
“Pacey, I stood up wrong. It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine.” He pushes his hand through his hair, and I can see the worry deepening in his brow.
When I first moved out here, Pacey vowed to our mom and dad that he would watch over me and make sure that I was okay. He’s taken that promise very seriously. He always makes sure to check on me, have dinners together, and just hang out. Even when he came home with Winnie, he included me. He’s made sure I’ve had everything I needed. I ran out of gas one day on my way to work, and he went out of his way to help me and was late to conditioning because of it. He’s protective, and he always will be.
“Pacey, seriously, I’m fine.” I stand, and this time, I don’t grow dizzy—thank God. I move around the couch and eye Hornsby’s bags. Pointing at them, I ask, “What’s this?”
Joining us in the entryway area, Pacey says, “Hornsby is moving in.”
“Oh, this is good,” Blakely mutters to herself.
“What?” I shake my head. “No, he’s not.”
I know Pacey mentioned it, and Blakely had the same idea, but there is no way I thought it would happen. From the looks of it, Hornsby was handed marching orders rather than making this decision on his own. His usually broad, proud shoulders are turned in, his chin is lowered, and his hands are stuffed in his pockets, making him look more like a wounded puppy than someone who wants to take charge of the situation.
“Yes, he is,” Pacey says. “And this dizzy spell is exactly why. You can’t be alone. You need someone here, helping you.”