Never Yours Again

Summary

I was the definition of ordinary, and it took me three years of relentless, shameless pursuit to finally wear Weston Cole down.

Once we were together, his favorite refrain became: “If you can’t handle it, leave.”

Until the night he brought another woman into the apartment he had bought for me.

In the guest bedroom, the sheets were stripped, the pillows tossed, the air thick with unmistakable, careless ruin.

I looked at it once, turned around, pulled my suitcase from the closet, and began to pack.

Weston leaned against the doorframe, watching me with amused detachment.