“Did I ask you to leave?”
Well, no, he didn’t. But I didn’t think I’d have to ask permission from him like a child. Ethan left, so why couldn’t I also leave?
“Um... I... Ethan left... so I thought we were done here,” I squeaked out, looking anywhere but at him.
I’d spent over an hour with him investigating a false lead, extremely uncomfortable and anxious, and having to deal with a memory that I’d have been better off without. All I wanted to do was drive home, and forget this ever happened.
But unsurprisingly, he had a problem with that too. It was as if the man enjoyed seeing me utterly miserable and lost.
“Ethan left because I asked him to, I didn’t do the same for you,” he breathed against me.
What was going on now? I wanted to leave! Yes, I was trying to do better, and trying to understand him, but for the love of God I’d had about enough of his presence and enough of seeing that despicable, yet handsome, face.