CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Chloe's POV

Three days. It had been three interminable days since Lucas unceremoniously chased me out of his house, his eyes cold, his voice sharp with disdain. Three days of silence, of waiting for a call, a text, some sign that he'd cooled off, that he was ready to talk.

But there was nothing. Radio silence. As if I'd ceased to exist, as if those perfect months we'd shared had been nothing more than a fever dream.

As if I meant nothing. Was nothing.

The thought festered like a splinter under my skin, hot and painful. Maddening. Lucas was mine, dammit. Mine. And no small-town single mother was going to waltz in and steal him away. Not without a fight.

So here I was, marching up the familiar path to his front door, my heels sinking into the lush grass. The house loomed before me, stately and proud, a monument to generations of Andersons.

To the life Lucas and I were meant to share.

I lifted my hand to knock, but hesitated. Glanced down at myself, taking in the artfully torn jeans, the