The Roommate (Roommates, #1)

Thankful for Allie’s second chance, I’d jumped at the opportunity to join her for a glass of wine tonight at a local bar. Her friendship was pretty much the only thing I had left.

We’d discussed her desire to start dating again after the disaster that was James, but when the topic turned to her brother, my heart began to pound. I wanted to feign mild disinterest for the sake of our mended friendship, but just hearing his name was like someone had struck a match inside my chest. I felt hot and anxious, desperate for more information, for news about how he was doing.This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“I think he’s going to be wrapping up at the hospital soon,” she said, fiddling with her cocktail napkin.

“What are you saying? Does Cannon have an offer already?”

Allie’s mouth lifted in a smile. “He does. He’s going to be a resident at one of the best cardiology programs in the country.”

Gripping the edge of my chair to keep from falling off, I held my breath while I waited for her to continue.

“He’s moving to Denver. Didn’t he tell you?”

That right there told me exactly where I ranked on Cannon’s list of priorities. “He hasn’t mentioned it.” Because we hadn’t spoken in two weeks.

Allie’s eyes widened. “He’s known for a couple of weeks. I thought for sure you knew.”

I set my glass down with shaky hands, the bottom clinking against the table. The news felt like a knife had been thrust through my heart, piercing the most tender place I’d kept hidden away. Allie knew that we had been sleeping together, but she had no idea how deep my feelings ran, how crushed I was when he just walked away.

Allie focused on her cocktail, not letting on if she saw my reaction. “He’s been busy. I’m sure he was going to tell you.”

“He hasn’t been by for his stuff or anything. He’s been staying with your mom.” Admitting that felt like I’d lost the very last piece of him.

Allie smirked. “That’s probably for the best, don’t you think?”

My world suddenly felt small and dark. It had been nice having someone to live with, even better than I’d expected. Cannon and I got along great, and once we threw great sex into the mix, it had started to feel like the total package. Then he went and ruined everything by telling me he loved me. And now he was leaving.

For weeks, the dilemma I’d thought I was facing was to choose between my friendship with Allie or pursuing more with Cannon. But now it seemed the decision had been taken out of my hands.

• • •

I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed Cannon’s sweet Post-it notes until one appeared on my front door a week later. I peeled it from the sun-faded door with tears in my eyes.

I need to talk to you. Are you free on Friday?

That was still two days away. Why did it feel like an eternity? I was sure that he was going to tell me about Denver.

After letting myself inside, I pulled out my phone and sent him a text.

Paige: Yes, I’m free on Friday. Do you want to come over for dinner?

He responded a few seconds later.

Cannon: I have the day off. I’ll bring groceries and meet you there.

It was settled; I had a dinner date with Cannon in forty-eight hours. Now I just needed to figure out what I was going to say to him.

• • •

You would have thought I had all the time in the world to plan what to say to Cannon when I saw him, but you’d be dead wrong. Somehow two days went by in a blur, and now it was Friday-time to face the music. Cannon had texted when I was leaving work to say he’d gotten to my place early and let himself inside.

When I arrived, I was surprised to see the front door was left open, not unlocked but actually standing ajar. I hurried inside, looking around to see if anything was out of place. The door to Cannon’s room was shut. I imagined, given his long hours at the hospital, that he might be napping.

As I made my way down the hall, I smelled smoke and paused. Not sure what was going on, I knocked on Cannon’s door. With no response after a few seconds, I pushed it open. A can of gasoline was at my feet, blocking the doorway, so I reached down and picked it up, setting it out of the way as my brain scrambled to make sense of what was going on.

A candle was burning just inches away. The edge of Cannon’s blanket was smoking as the candle’s flame licked at it. He was lying there asleep, unaware of his treacherous surroundings.

Confused, I bent down and grabbed a book of matches lying on the floor, then the candle with the intention of blowing it out, but it was already too late. Flames had caught the edge of his blanket, which was now smoldering, and clarity hit me at once.

Michelle had been back.

I screamed Cannon’s name, my voice echoing in the small room.