Chapter Twelve
ALLEY
PRESENT DAY
The cab pulls up to our building, and I step out, the rain hitting instantly, soaking me in the fifteen feet it takes to reach the entrance.
Inside, the lobby blurs—familiar people, familiar space, but I barely see any of it. My feet carry me to the elevator, my brain blanking the moment I step inside. The doors close, but I don’t move. I just stand there, staring.
My phone rings. I yank it from my purse, pulse spiking. Jensen.
No—Adam.
I send it to voicemail, a lump forming, tightening my throat. The weight of why he’s calling pressing on my chest, constricting my goddamn heart until I swear it might explode. Of all nights for something else to go wrong. Why tonight?
A text dings.
I slump against the elevator wall, my fingers sluggish as I swipe up.
Adam
I just talked to Michael. How are you holding up?
The tears come faster now. I squeeze my eyes shut, gripping the phone tighter.
God, this is the worst night ever. Opening my eyes, I realize I’m still in the lobby. I fumble for the button, pushing for the sixth floor.
I don’t even remember walking down the hallway. But when the door to our apartment slams shut behind me, my cry rips through the empty space. Rain and tears soak my face as I drop my stuff in the middle of the entryway and drift toward the living room, numb.
I collapse onto the sofa, a guttural moan tearing from my throat—one I’ve been holding in since the cab ride home. I fold my arms over my knees and press my forehead against them.
Holy shit. I can’t breathe.
The weight of it all—Jensen, Adam’s call, life. It’s crushing me.
I force myself to sit up, dialing Jensen one more time, knowing he won’t answer. I’m sent straight to voicemail.
“Hi, you’ve reached Jensen Adams. You know what to do.”
I scream. A raw, monstrous sound shreds out of me as my phone flies from my hand, crashing into the wall.
“FUUUUCK! ”
The voice isn’t mine. It’s unrecognizable—angry, broken, shrill. And most definitely crazy.
I gasp for air, but my lungs refuse to work.
My heart pounds, hammering in my ears. I slide off the couch, onto the floor, and lie on my back.
Panic grips me, sinking its claws in, and my chest tightens.
My body forgets how to work, every muscle locked, nerves firing with no sense of direction, wild and out of control.
I shudder as the sobs wrack my body. Everything feels like it’s slipping away—noise, touch, my surroundings.
Jensen.