He shook his head. "I'm not doing this."
He turned, heading upstairs.
I followed.
Because there was no way I was letting him ghost a whole family from a hallway.
Our bedroom door was open. His suitcase was already halfway zipped, clothes folded too neatly for someone just deciding to leave.
"You were never going to tell me, were you?" I asked.
"I'm not doing this."
Continued on the next page
