Almost three weeks had passed since Sam walked out of Selena's apartment for the last time. Almost three weeks of silence, of resisting the urge to call or text, of trying to convince himself he'd done the right thing for Jennette, for Selena, for himself. But the guilt hadn't left. It hadn't even faded. It just sat in his chest like a stone, cold and unmoving.
He hadn't expected to find anything while clearing out the storage room at the laundromat that morning. It had just been something to do to keep his mind off the ache he still carried. But there it was, tucked behind a row of old detergent boxes. A small drawstring pouch with Selena's red lace panties, the same ones he took when she wore when he said she shouldn't wear any. He'd forgotten they were even there. For a moment, he'd just stared at it like it was a grenade. And then, without thinking, he'd packed a small box with a few of her things that had collected over time. A hair clip. A lip balm. That pair of panties.
