Tom's POV
I clenched my fist, muttering through my teeth, "Don't you fucking dare. "Don't go in there. Don't feel anything. Forget her. You're finally breathing again. Don't ruin it.
But of course my brain didn't give a shit what I wanted. Tyler's smug face, those words I wish I'd never heard, the whole week of cold silence… it all slammed back into me like a wrecking ball someone forgot to chain down.
I forced myself to look away. And for a second, I actually managed it, for a few seconds until I looked back, And her locked with mine.
Time didn't slow down for me. My stomach hit the floor. My chest fucking flared.
Fuck. I was screwed.
I snapped my gaze away, pretending I hadn't seen a damn thing. Pretend, pretend, pretend — my new hobby. After a few minutes, I chanced another glance at the parlor… and she was gone. Just vanished like she'd never been there.
I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding and watched some kids kicking a soccer ball across the grass. The wind rustled the trees, the sky was perfectly calm — the kind of peaceful shit that should've relaxed me — but instead it just pissed me off. My head was loud as hell, spinning with everything I didn't want to think about.
Then, without warning, she appeared again. She didn't stand far off. She didn't hover. She sat right. Fucking. Next. To me.
Like she hadn't driven me insane all week.
My chest seized instantly. My shoulders locked. Why the fuck was she here?
I kept my eyes forward, stiff as stone, pretending she didn't exist. Maybe she'd get bored and float away like smoke. But her perfume hit me first — that soft, familiar scent — and I knew I was absolutely, undeniably fucked.
So I stood. No hesitation. No plan. Just pure flight mode. I wasn't giving her a chance to start whatever twisted game she had lined up. I didn't owe her shit — not a second more of my peace.
But before I could take a single step, her hand wrapped around my wrist.
Soft. Hesitant. Barely there — but enough to freeze me on the spot.
"Tom," she whispered.
Just one word. One stupid, tiny syllable. And it stopped me cold.
Her voice wasn't sharp or teasing. It wasn't her usual playful crap. It was quiet — almost fragile. I looked down, and her eyes were wide, shiny, searching mine like she was scared I'd disappear.
And just for a moment — a brief, goddamn infuriating moment — all the anger I'd been clinging to started cracking .Piece by piece. she was undoing me with nothing but my name.
I tore my gaze away from her, jaw locked tight. I wasn't letting those eyes screw with my head again — not after the week she'd handed me. But even with every muscle in me screaming to pull back, her hand stayed on my wrist… and I didn't shake it off. Not yet.
"What," I asked, flat and cold as I could manage.
"Please look at me," she whispered, soft enough that it damn near slipped under my guard.
But I kept my head turned, staring straight ahead like she wasn't unraveling me with one sentence.
"What do you want, Imogen?" I finally forced out — and like an idiot, I looked at her while I said it.
Big mistake. Those glossy, desperate, tear-filled eyes hit me like a punch, and I felt something in my chest tightened in a way I fucking hated.
"Is that really a way to speak to a friend?" she asked, a wavering smile tugging at her lips, like she was clinging to the word friend for dear life.
I scoffed, the bitterness sharp in my throat. "Did you forget? We're not friends."
Her smile twitched — not fading, not quite — just bending into something sadder."Not yet," she murmured, trying to sound hopeful, but it came out as a plea.
That was the moment I knew I had to shut this down before she broke through the last of my defenses.
I turned away, choosing my heart over her. "Not ever," I said quietly, pulling my wrist from her fingers — gently, because despite everything, I couldn't bring myself to be rough with her.
And then I walked. Didn't look back. Didn't breathe until I'd put enough distance between us that her voice couldn't reach me anymore.
But even then, every step felt like I was peeling myself away from something I secretly wished I didn't want.