When I got home, I didn’t know what to expect.

All I wanted was to sleep. To breathe. To wake up in a world that wasn’t falling apart. But no — because the moment I walked into Cole’s house, she was there.

Michelle.

Sitting in the living room. In a pink lounge dress, holding a cup of warm milk or whatever she thought would make her look soft and pitiful.

She looked like she hadn’t left the house in days. I wasn’t sure what pissed me off more — her presence, or the way she sat like she owned the place.

I froze at the doorway. Part of me wanted...