It was about a week later when Abel showed up at Chevelle's doorstep.

She was shocked to see him there. She'd forgotten that somewhere in their whirlwind of a romance, she had told him where she lived. Back when he had joked about finding himself in her city one day. Back when the idea of losing him had been just that: an idea. A fear that she told herself she was crazy for nursing because they were just so perfect for each other. How could anything go wrong? How could he ever walk away from her?

Even with the distance, she'd been convinced they would survive. She hadn't wanted to admit it aloud because she was scared that being overconfident would hex their relationship, but it was true. She had a deep comfort when it came to her relationship with Abel. She'd felt so secure. The way he looked at her...it made her feel like she was absolutely everything, and he was so convincing that she herself started to believe it. She believed that she was his everything. That, in a week, they'd built what most people couldn't build in years.

Chevelle believed she'd become everything to Abel, and all it had taken was a two-minute phone call to send him running back to his ex. It didn't get much lower than that. She'd been humiliated and humbled all in one fell swoop, and if nothing else, at least she had learned an important lesson about following the rules she'd made for herself.

Chevelle had broken all her rules for Abel. Her rules about sex, her rules about intimacy, her rules about what to share with people she barely knew. She'd thought that just this once, she could listen to her heart. Let it lead her. That maybe it would be nice to cast aside fear and move from love for once in her life, and look where it had gotten her. She had forgotten that she had created her rules for a reason. Because she had tried it the other way and ended up with gonorrhea. Ended up with a dead boyfriend. Ended up in a coma, at risk of her family being deported.

There was a reason she'd created rules for herself. A reason she needed to be careful when it came to her heart and giving her love. Because she had so much love to give, and she'd learned only too late in life that there were people who would take and take and take that love until it no longer served them, and then they would cast her aside. And just as most of the other men in her life had cast her aside, so had Abel. It was to be expected, but for some reason, it still hurt more. There was a part of her that still didn't want to believe he had done what he had done. That he had chosen someone else.

After leaving his city, Chevelle thought she was never going to see Abel again. She wanted to believe he would come after her, but as the reality set in with each passing day, she started making her peace with it.

It was strange. Seeing him standing outside her apartment, wide-eyed and a little breathless. His lips slightly parted, like he was ready to plead were she to try slam the door in his face. It was strange seeing him in this setting. Away from that city. Away from his plant-filled house. Here. In her space. It made everything more real for some reason.

It was strange, seeing him every day for almost two weeks, and then not seeing him at all for the next two. Having him pop up all of a sudden with a beard much fuller than it had been when she'd left him. His hair a little longer than before. His eyes exactly the same. Just as brown and piercing and bottomless as she remembered them being. Just as easy to get lost in. As easy to find herself in.

Chevelle didn't like the way his presence still made her knees weak. Still knocked the breath out of her chest.

"What's this?" she asked, and her voice sounded like it belonged to someone else.

She didn't step outside fully, but she also didn't invite him in. Until she knew what he'd come here for, she wanted to be ready to put some distance between them.

"Hey," Abel said. "I'm sorry, I should've called first, but I wasn't sure if you'd see me."

Chevelle just looked at him, remaining silent as she waited for him to get to the point.

"I've wanted to come see you for a while now," Abel admitted. "Ever since New Year's. I just...after how we left things, I didn't know if you'd even want me here, and I wanted to respect that."

"Then why are you here?" Chevelle asked. "Got tired of respecting my space?"

Abel sighed, searching Chevelle's eyes, looking for something—anything—he could hold onto. Something to give him hope that maybe there was still a chance, but he found nothing. Only her hurt. Hurt that she had been trying for weeks to harden into hostility.

"I missed you," he finally said. "And I figured if I'm still thinking about you after all this time then I might as well come see you. I figured that...I don't know, maybe you've been thinking of me too?" He gave Chevelle a small, hopeful smile that she did not return.

She shifted her gaze to the floor between them, too scared to look in his eyes and get drawn right back in by the beautiful promises swimming beneath them.

"Chevelle," Abel said, a plea in his voice. And hearing the sound of her name falling from his lips, Chevelle almost forgot about the reason for her hurt. She almost ran out there and kissed him.

"Please," he begged. "I don't want to fight with you. I hate this."

Chevelle folded her arms across her chest, paying keen attention to the fact that Abel hadn't brought up Avery even once. It was comical how smart men thought they were. The way they really believed they could pull up to a girl's house with nothing but empty promises and a connecting beard and expect shit—that they ruined, might I add—to just fall back into place.

Did Abel really think he could throw out a few 'I miss you's and things would be okay again? Well things weren't okay. And as far as Chevelle was concerned, he had wanted to be with Avery, so he should go be with her.

She eyed him up and her gaze was biting. Abel had to fight not to squirm under it.

"Why are you really here?" Chevelle asked. "What? Avery didn't want to leave her husband for you?"

Chevelle didn't really care that Abel had come back to see her after all this time; she cared that he had left her in the first place. That in the moment of truth, he had chosen someone else. Only now that the other option was no longer viable was he was back here fighting for her, and that didn't feel good. Chevelle didn't want to be anyone's second choice—the person they settle for after the person they truly want has gotten away. She had thought that Abel truly wanted her before. That it had been divine timing, them meeting after both becoming recently single. Spending every single day together. She had never thought of herself as a rebound, but now...she didn't know what to think. She wanted Abel to say something magical that would change her mind completely—convince her he was for real this time, but she knew that wasn't possible. Nothing he could say would make her view their relationship the way she once had. It was like a broken plate; it could be glued back together, but still, the cracks will remain.

And Chevelle had thought her comment about Avery would hurt Abel at least a little—make him wince or something—but it didn't, and she wasn't sure what to make of that.

"This isn't about Avery," Abel said.

"Then why won't you mention her?" Chevelle pressed. "You think I just forgot what happened? If it's not about her, then why won't you tell me what she wanted? Why are you pretending she had nothing to do with this?"

"Chevelle..."

"Either tell me what she wanted or leave," Chevelle said. "I don't have time for this."

Abel pinched the bridge of his nose, pressing his eyes shut as a frustrated sigh fell from his lips. "She—um, she wanted me to get tested," he muttered. "For scabies."

If she wasn't still so hurt by this whole situation, Chevelle probably would have laughed. She remembered the sound of Abel's voice before he had gone to see Avery. The way she could hear the anticipation. How high his expectations had been, only to have been summoned for an STI scare.

And then, Chevelle remembered her own sexual history with Abel. They were generally safe, but they had slipped up more than once. Gotten too caught up in the moment and thrown caution to the wind. Was this going to be a Stanley Rameau part 2?

Holding her breath, Chevelle asked, "Do you have it?"

Abel shook his head. "No, I don't."

"Sounds like it could've been a phone call."

"I'm sure you see it that way, Chevelle."

She sighed. "Look, I know that's not what you were hoping for with Avery. I understand that. What I don't understand is why you came all the way here to tell me this. We're not together, remember?"

"I know," Abel said. "But that doesn't mean we can't share things with each other. That we can't still talk. I don't want you out of my life, Chevelle. I still care about you."

She shook her head. "Jesus Christ, Abel, just stop! Fucking stop it, okay? I begged you to stay with me and you didn't! Clearly you don't care enough if you're showing up here with such a weak excuse after how you left. And I still don't even understand what you came here for. Did you drive all the way here just to tell me the good news about your scabies? Did you want to fuck me again? What is it?"

"I..." Abel trailed off, searching for the answer to her question himself.

"...You...?"

Truth be told, he hadn't really come here with a plan. He'd thought if he wore his heart on his sleeve—if he was honest about how he felt, how much he missed her—that it would be enough, but that had been naïve of him. After the way they'd left things, he had been dumb not to come here with a plan. With a clear path that he wanted to take out of this mess they'd gotten into. Because as well as he knew Chevelle, he should've known better than to assume she would just believe him without a convincing reason.

And what did he want? He didn't even know.

He hadn't come here just to fuck—although he would definitely not be the one to take it off the table. He also hadn't come here to tell her about the scabies. He honestly hadn't even planned on bringing it up since he didn't have it and, let's be real, it was kind of embarrassing.

He'd said all that stuff about needing closure. Needing to hear whatever explanation Avery had for him, and all she'd had for him was an STI. She hadn't given him any more closure than she had at her wedding, and Abel didn't know why he kept going back to the same place hoping for a different reality. The truth was that Avery didn't have a good reason for leaving him. Not one that would satisfy him. She had simply fallen out of love—or rather, outgrown their love—and he simply didn't want to accept it. It was easier to assume that there had been another man, or that he had done something to push her away—some kind of reason that was easier to stomach than simply, because.

Chevelle had warned him of this. Back at that bar right off the side of highway. She had warned him of the dangers of wanting closure too much. Of needing it to move on. Of relying on someone else to help you heal. He hadn't listened, and now, here he was; he had lost Avery and he was holding onto Chevelle by a thread. Begging for her not to leave him too.

So I guess he had really just come here to apologize. And to see what Chevelle wanted. If there was any part of her that didn't hate him. That was willing to give him another chance.

"I don't know," he finally admitted. "I guess I just wanted to talk. To hear your voice. To see what's been going on in your life. How you're feeling."

Disarming a little bit, Chevelle sighed. "Look, that's sweet, and I appreciate the thought...but I can't be the person in your life that you go to when you want to 'talk.' You might've had me thinking that shit was okay in your little winter wonderland, but this is the real world, and I have real problems to deal with, Abel. I have real feelings. How am I supposed to get over you if you're still in my life like this?"

Abel reached out to take Chevelle's hand, and although she wanted to jerk away from his touch, she couldn't. She was so desperate to feel him that her body wouldn't let her move away. And as Abel held her hand in his, their touch was as electric as she remembered. Even more so.

"So...maybe you don't get over me," he said. "Maybe we try this again. For real this time."

And upon hearing that, Chevelle pulled her hand away from his. She held it to her heart. "I don't have space in my life for a man who's still in love with his ex," she said.

"I'm not still in love with her," Abel insisted, but it was unconvincing. She couldn't even tell if he believed it himself.

"Abel, do you not remember that less than two weeks ago, you left me to go and see her?" Chevelle demanded, incredulous. "Like, literally. I was in your house and you left."

"I remember, Chevelle. You're actually the one who left."

Chevelle's jaw dropped. She couldn't believe that Abel was actually trying to argue with her about this as if he hadn't made it crystal clear that he planned to go whether or not Chevelle stayed in his house.

"Oh, sorry," she said, pissed off now. "Was I supposed to wait for you in your house while you drove five hours to go and see your married ex-girlfriend?"

He sighed. "I'm sorry, Chevelle," he said. "I really am. I'm not in love with her though." He hated how defensive he still felt when she brought up Avery. He really wasn't in love with her—at least he didn't think he was—but for some reason he still felt the urge to defend her. To show up for her even though she'd done nothing but leave him hanging. Time and time again.

Chevelle rolled her eyes, groaning exaggeratedly. "Oh please," she muttered. "You drove all that way to see her at the drop of a hat and you expect me to believe that shit? I was fucking naked in your house and you left me to go and see her with no guarantee of even hearing what you wanted to hear, and you expect me to believe that you're over her? Eske ou sòt?"

She waited for Abel to speak, but when, as expected, he remained silent, she continued.

"Also, do you really think I believe that nothing else happened? That she said to get tested and that was it? I'm not fucking stupid, Abel."

"Well no, obviously we didn't just talk about the scabies," he said. "After four years together of course there was other shit, but Chevelle, nothing else happened. We only talked."

He was only telling Chevelle what she already knew. She knew better than most what happened when one went to go 'talk' with an ex. Maybe he and Avery hadn't ripped off each other's clothes, but that didn't mean nothing happened, and they both knew that. There were a lot more layers to a relationship than just the physical. Much more important layers. Chevelle knew how a simple touch, even a fleeting look, could set someone back months in the healing process. She wished Abel hadn't gone, because now, even if he didn't want her to be, Avery was definitely on his mind, and she didn't have it in her to fight for the heart of someone who already had all of hers.

"So nothing else happened..." she said. "Was that because of you, or because of Avery?" Chevelle looked Abel dead in the eyes as she spoke. She wanted to see his initial reaction to her words. The ones that arose so quickly even he could not hide them. "If Avery had tried to kiss you, would you have let her?"

No, said Abel's eyes, and Chevelle was taken aback.

She hadn't expected to see the shock, the hurt in Abel's eyes upon hearing that question. She had thought she would see a yes, although she had desperately wanted to be wrong.

"No!" Abel said aloud. "Of course I wouldn't have."

It wasn't like he hadn't thought about kissing Avery since their split or even since he'd met Chevelle, but when he'd seen her, it just wasn't the same. Not like how he remembered it being. When she smiled at him, it didn't melt away the darkness inside him like it once had. When she looked into his eyes, he didn't fall into her universe like he'd used to. And he knew it was because of Chevelle.

She didn't really know what to make of this. The fact that she believed Abel wouldn't have let anything physical happen between himself and Avery, but still, had driven hours and hours into the night just to see her. Did that make it better? Worse?

Either way, Chevelle knew that that wasn't enough to change what had happened between them. The way she had begged and pleaded with him in ways that, in the past, she had only done with men she'd sworn to love. It didn't change the humiliation she still felt when she thought back to that day and how her tears had meant nothing to him in the face of Thee Avery. It didn't change the pain she had felt, walking away from him and realizing that he would let her leave. That, in his silence, he had made the loudest decision of all.

"Look, you can call it whatever you want," Chevelle said. "Love or not, it doesn't change anything. The fact remains that your ex told you she needed to talk to you, and you needed to hear whatever it was for your own emotional wellbeing. That, to me, says that you're still too invested in that relationship. And you of all people should understand that I can't invest myself in someone who's invested elsewhere. I'm too old to keep making the same dumb mistakes."

And just like she had at his house, Chevelle wanted him to fight her on this. Even though she knew her points were valid, she wanted him to fight for her. To say 'fuck it,' and make her take him back. Because she would have. If he'd tried hard enough—been as adamant about getting her back as he had been about going to see Avery in the first place—she would have invited him in. She would've wrapped her arms around him and held him close to her heart.

But just like he had back at his house, he accepted her words with barely any resistance. Chevelle didn't know if it was because he respected her so much, or because he simply didn't care enough. Didn't want to fight for her the way he'd wanted to fight for Avery.

"That...is extremely fair." Abel said. "And honestly, something I shouldn't have needed you to tell me."

He had denied it at first when Chevelle insisted he was still in love with Avery, but the more he thought about it, the more he realized she may have been right. It may not have been love, but he clearly wasn't fully over Avery. He had wanted her to want him back—and not because he was tired of Chevelle or because he wanted to leave her to get back together with Avery, but simply because he wanted to be wanted. He wanted some confirmation that he had mattered to Avery even half as much as she had mattered to him. But Chevelle was right; going back for that closure had only reopened something he'd been moving past just fine. Since he'd started spending all that time with Chevelle, Avery was the furthest thing from his mind. He'd just come back from her wedding and still, he hadn't thought of her even once. And now, some random text had compelled him to leave his house, while Chevelle was there, to go and see her? What the hell was wrong with him?

He shouldn't have done that. He'd known it then and he knew it now.

It was so stupid of him, and now, he'd hurt the one person that he really wanted. And who's to say something else wouldn't cause him to hurt her again? It wasn't fair to Chevelle.

It would've been unfair for him to ask her for another chance. He didn't deserve one. The very least he could do in this moment, was to give Chevelle what she wanted: her space.

And so, with another apology, another lingering look, Abel finally turned and left, dragging his heels the whole way down the hall. Chevelle watched him until he disappeared down the stairwell, stunned. She wanted to call after him but she couldn't find her voice.

Watching him leave like that felt like a knife to the gut. Like she had driven it in herself.