Obligation (Underground Kings #2)(31)

“I needed the people who were trying to harm you to believe we were no longer together.”

My gut twists, and I know that, even if that were the case, even if he was doing it as a way to protect me, no one would have known he’d left me a note. No one would have known he told me that his lawyer would be in touch. No one would have known I cried for hours, alone, in our bed, surrounded by his smell. He could have spoken to me, could have told me what he wanted to do, but he didn’t even give me a choice in the matter. He left me without so much as a “f*ck you.”

“You did a good job,” I say snidely.

“You have to understand,” he says quietly, giving my waist a squeeze.

I jerk away and turn to face him. “I understand I told you before that I needed you to be up-front with me about everything.” I accentuate the last word. “I understand that you could have talked to me, but you chose not to. And I also understand that what we had was never real, so the fact that it ended shouldn’t really hurt.” I shove past him and head towards the kitchen.

“Myla, I’m not going anywhere!” he shouts down the hall.

I turn to look at him. Words get stuck in my throat, so without another word, I turn away and head towards the kitchen. There, I grab a glass of water before making my way down to the beach, where I sit staring off into the ocean until a chill fills the air and I’m forced to go inside.

*

I get out of bed, pulling on a pair of shorts and a hoodie before heading to the kitchen, finally giving up on getting any sleep. I have tossed and turned for the last hour, unable to turn my brain off. I finally decided I would just get up and bake something.

Since I was young, baking has been an escape for me, and I know it’s the one thing I can do right now that will help me clear my head. I make it to the kitchen and turn on the light. Then I pull out all the ingredients I need to make pineapple cupcakes with rum cream frosting. Just as I begin to crack eggs into the bowl, I see movement out of the corner of my eye. My belly does a flip, expecting to see Kai, but instead, my eyes connect with Pika’s.

“I see you,” I tell him, going back to putting the ingredients into the bowl.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, coming to sit on the counter next to me.

I think about his question for a moment then think about the way my stomach felt every time I thought about Kai, and I honestly didn’t know how to answer.

“I don’t know.” I shrug, pull out a baking pan, and fill the holes with cupcake liners.

“I have known Kai for a long time.”

I swallow but don’t look at him.

“I know you don’t want to hear this right now, but he was right in his actions.”

My head lifts and my eyes meet his. “You don’t think he should have told me something? Anything? At least given me some kind of clue he was coming home and we were not over?” I feel the pain in my chest expand. “I’m sorry, but I cannot imagine being with someone, caring about them, and then leaving them without a backward glance…without even a proper goodbye.”

“Myla, think about where he’s coming from. You meet this girl, and out of nowhere, your life changes and she becomes someone worth fighting for, worth protecting. Think about the kind of guy you know him to be, and then tell me he wasn’t doing the right thing.”

“He didn’t do that, Pika. He didn’t fight. Not for me,” I whisper and then look down at the bowl in my hands. “So if youre going to stay in here and try to convince me that what he did was okay, you might as well just go.”

“I’m here for you as your friend,” he says then tugs on my arm until I go to him.

My waist goes between his legs, my head leans on his chest, my arms wrap around him, and I feel his lips on the top of my head.

“One day, Myla, you will see he was right.”

*

I look out the window, down at the rain falling into the ocean, which makes it look as turbulent as my emotions. Kai came to my room an hour ago and knocked on the door, yelling through that his mom would be here at noon. I ignored him and the feeling I got when he didn’t say anything else or try to and kick down the door to get to me.

I hate that I am feeling so confused. I can’t figure out what I want him to do. Do I want him to fight for me, or do I want him to just leave me alone?

I shake my head at my own stupid thoughts and turn towards the mirror to look at myself. I want to look decent for Kai’s mom. I don’t think she would understand my showing up in a pair of sweats with dark bags under my eyes from not being able to sleep properly over the last month. Actually, I know that, if I showed up like that, she would have a million questions I’m just not ready to answer.

So, instead of sweats, I pull out my favorite jeans. They have seen better days, and those days were about ten years ago. They are a pair of medium-washed jeans with holes along the front. I bought them that way, but over the years, those holes have gotten bigger and bigger—some from normal wear and tear, and others from me and my constant picking at the material when I have them on.

I put on a plain, white tank top, and since it is raining, I put on my favorite orange sweater that has bell sleeves and little white polka dots on it. Then I put my hair in a bun on top of my head and dab on some concealer, a little blush, and some mascara. I sigh, slip on my flip-flops, and head for the door.