It had only been half a year, yet it felt like everything had changed.
This time, I didn't put up a front.
"Alright, then.
"Sorry to trouble you."
Once we got inside my home, Chandler began looking around.
"Stop looking."
I kicked off my heels, tossing them aside carelessly.
"I threw away all your stuff."
His footsteps halted abruptly.
I stumbled toward the couch, struggling to reach the first-aid kit in the drawer of the table.
Chandler was faster. He grabbed me by the waist and set me down on the couch, turning his back to me as he muttered, "I'll put the medicine on for you."
When we were together, he'd done this plenty of times.
I was careless and often ended up with scrapes and bruises without even noticing. Chandler never complained, always patiently disinfecting and applying medicine.
He never said much while he did it, but the furrowed brow and tense expression on his face showed how much he worried about me.
The rain outside hadn't let up.
Halfway through applying the medicine, Jayvon suddenly called.
Chandler caught a glimpse of the name of the caller, and his expression darkened. He freed one hand to pick up my phone from the table.
"You want to answer it?"