When September Ends by Andrea Smith Page B

had in one hand against the open palm of the other until the pain of what I was doing finally registered.
    Fuck me.
    No. Fuck her!
    I toss the wrench in my open toolbox and slam it shut with my foot, cursing under my breath.
    “Where’s September?”
    I turn abruptly, unaware that anyone had entered the garage.
    Libby.
    “She left,” I reply with a shrug.
    “I know, but why?”
    “Uh…she said she had company back at her apartment.”
    “But she didn’t even say goodbye to Scout or me.”
    She’s not gonna let this go, I can tell.
    “Look—Sarah,” I say, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice. “I can’t speak for September’s manners. She left, okay?”
    Her eyes mist up at the harshness I failed to hide.
    “Listen,” I say, my voice calmer. “Maybe it was my fault. How about I go and see if she’s okay?”
    She nods. “Okay, Jesse. Maybe my being here has upset her…”
    I quirk a brow at her, as I pick up my toolbox and place it back on the workbench where it belongs. “Why would you think that?”
    She shrugs, wrapping her arms around her waist as if she’s chilled. “Scout said that September used to live here and pretty much ran the house—the way that I’ve been trying to this past week, and I just figured maybe she feels like I’ve encroached on her space.”
    I frown. “No, she left to go to college. I’m sure your being here isn’t an issue. I’ll see what I can find out.”
    “Okay, then. I’ll keep dinner warm.”

    My mind races as I head towards September’s apartment. How could things have changed so quickly? After last Sunday, I was certain that we were moving back in the right direction, and then she drops this bombshell on me?
    What the fuck?
    In a week’s time, she and her horny neighbor move from friendship to something more?
    I don’t buy it. Not for one minute. Something else is at play here, and it has to do with Libby being here with us.
    I’m an idiot.
    A fucking idiot.
    She simply fabricated that story to piss me off, to make it easier for her to leave because this situation is difficult for her to handle. I can understand that, but running isn’t the answer.
    By the time I pull up to her duplex I have relaxed a bit. I’m relieved to see her car parked out front. We’ll talk this out. I’ll call her out on her fabricated story, and we’ll figure out a way to get through this together.
    I lock the truck and head up the steps to the front porch. The door leading to the inside stairwell is unlocked, so I quickly ascend the steps and knock on the door to her apartment.
    I wait. It’s quiet inside, so I knock again, harder.
    She can’t stay in there forever. I’m not leaving until she opens the fucking door and hears me out.
    I pound on it now, with my fist.
    The door is finally wrenched open and there stands over six feet of well-muscled male, some impressive ink adorning his biceps and triceps since the only thing he’s wearing are cotton boxers.
    He runs a hand through his disheveled hair and my first instinct is to kill the motherfucker. I can feel the twitch in my cheeks as we both assess one another.
    I’m obliterated; destroyed. Here I was, thinking September was lying for some reason, when, in fact, she was being blatantly honest with me. The truth is standing right in her doorway, looking as if he’s been there before and is quite comfortable in his underwear.
    Her words come back to me now. “Don’t make me lie to you, Jesse.”
    No fucking problem.
    “Never mind,” is all that comes from my mouth as I turn and leave him standing there alive.
    It’s over.
    So fucking over.

Chapter 16

    Five weeks later
    I’ve survived these past few weeks by keeping myself so busy with studying and pulling extra work shifts that I don’t have time to dwell on anything.
    It’s so much easier that way.
    Oh, I know that Jesse had come by my apartment. As soon as I returned home that day, Brandon filled me in. I admitted to him the story I had given