16. Evan
EVAN
It was too late for Evan to second-guess what he was doing, and that was part of the problem.
If Evan had taken thirty seconds to think before he’d driven off the lot, he might have made a different choice.
Logic might have caught up, or common sense would have stepped in and shut it down.
Instead, CJ’s truck pulled out, and Evan followed.
Just like that.
No hesitation. Just a straight line from decision to consequence.
“Great,” Evan muttered under his breath. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. “Fantastic idea. Five stars. No notes.”
The drive back to their building was too short, barely long enough for the noise in his head to settle into anything resembling a coherent thought.
Evan found himself locked onto the truck ahead of him, tracking it with a focus that would have felt obsessive in any other situation.
Every flicker of brake lights, every turn signal, every shift in speed felt like it should mean something, or at least give some indication of what this was or where it was going.
It didn’t. CJ drove as if nothing had changed.
Like the last ten minutes hadn’t happened and he hadn’t just reached inside Evan and pulled something loose that had been buried deep enough to feel safe.
If CJ hadn’t stumbled over his words before they’d left, Evan would have believed that whatever was happening wasn’t a big deal to him.
That it was going to be an easy, casual conversation.
But CJ had given Evan a glimpse of his nerves, and having seen that only sharpened the anticipation Evan felt coiling in his chest.
By the time they pulled into the garage, his heart was beating so hard it felt like a jackhammer.
The gate rolled down behind his SUV with a low mechanical hum, sealing them in, and Evan dragged in a slow breath that didn’t quite steady him.
He pulled into a spot, shifted into Park, and killed the engine.
The sudden quiet pressed in around him. He sat there for a moment, his fingers tapping out an uneven rhythm against the steering wheel before they tightened against the worn leather as if he could anchor himself in place.
Like if he just held on hard enough, he wouldn’t have to move.
The engine ticked softly as it cooled, and for a moment, it felt like the whole world had narrowed to that small, contained space.
He could leave. The thought slipped into his head easily.
He could back out of the spot, leave the garage and drive until the city blurred into something unrecognizable.
Until whatever they were doing became just another almost was, and he could bury it with the other memories he tried to ignore.
He’d done it once already, when CJ had walked away from him.
He’d taken every messy, complicated, overwhelming piece of his life and folded it down into something manageable and quiet.
Something he could carry without it threatening to break him open every time he thought about it. He could do it again if he had to.
But he’d agreed to this. He’d said okay like it was nothing, like it didn’t mean stepping straight back into something he’d spent years trying to get over.
He let his head fall back against the headrest. So yeah, he could leave, but he’d spent years proving he was the guy who didn’t lose his head or let anything get to him.
He definitely wasn’t the guy who sat in his car with his heart trying to kickbox its way out of his chest because someone had looked at him a certain way.
That’s all it had taken. Just CJ actually looking at him—not past him or through him, or like a teammate or problem he needed to manage.
CJ had looked at him, and the walls Evan had built to keep everything contained started to crumble.
He felt it happening in real time, the structure he’d built starting to bend under the weight of something he hadn’t dared think about in a long time. Evan squeezed his eyes shut.
This was a bad idea. A spectacularly bad idea.
He knew exactly how this could end—how it had ended before and probably would end again.
He knew what it felt like to pick himself up after, and how to rebuild himself from the ground up and pretend it hadn’t carved something permanent into him. He knew how to survive it.
Evan knew better, so why wasn’t he leaving?
Because he didn’t want to. That was it. That was the whole thing, stripped clean of logic, self-preservation, and every carefully constructed rule.
He didn’t want to leave, and that realization settled his nerves.
He’d chosen this the moment he’d said yes, and whatever happened next—whatever this turned into—would be the consequence for not running away.
“Get it together,” he muttered, dragging a hand down his face.
Evan pushed the door open and stepped out into the garage. It was too late to back out, even if he wanted to.
His steps echoed through the garage as he made his way to the elevator lobby where CJ was already waiting.
Of course he was.
CJ was leaning slightly back on his heels, shoulders braced against the wall like he was trying to look casual. One hand was tucked into his pocket while the other scrolled idly through his phone.
To anyone else, CJ would have passed for relaxed, but Evan knew better.
He could see it in the way his weight shifted just slightly from one foot to the other because he couldn’t stand still.
It was the way CJ’s head tipped a little as he tracked the sound of Evan’s steps before he looked up, like he’d been aware of him the whole time.
Evan settled the strap of his bag on his shoulder as he walked over. His pace was steady but with a slight hesitation, as if he were trying to stretch each step just slightly longer than the last.
The call button was already lit, so Evan stopped at CJ’s side, closer than he needed to be, and CJ’s thumb stilled against his phone.
Neither of them spoke, and Evan became aware of everything at once: the low hum of the overhead lights, the faint smell of exhaust in the air, the distant echo of another car door slamming somewhere deeper in the garage.
His pulse climbed again, settling high in his throat as he tried to think of what to say.
Whatever came out of his mouth could change whatever was happening.
Push it forward and define it, or stop it in its tracks.
In that moment, the tense quiet felt safer than risking the wrong word and watching it all fracture again.
A soft chime announced the arrival of the elevator, and CJ pushed off the wall, slipping his phone into his pocket.
Evan followed a half-step behind, and just like that, the distance between them disappeared as they stepped inside.
Evan leaned against the wall as the doors slid shut, and CJ moved to stand next to him, exhaling slowly.
“You’re quiet,” CJ said. The elevator jolted into motion, and CJ trained his eyes on the digital numbers above the doors.
Evan swallowed, eyes still fixed ahead. “I’m thinking.”
“About?”
Evan looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Whether this is a good idea.”
CJ’s mouth twitched. “How’s that going?”
Evan huffed softly. “Badly.”
CJ shifted and leaned one shoulder against the wall, turning just enough that he could look at Evan head-on instead of speaking into the space between them.
“It’s just a conversation,” he said. “Maybe don’t overthink it.”
Evan huffed a quiet breath and kept his gaze fixed forward for a second longer before he dragged his eyes to meet CJ’s. “I know it’s been a long time,” he said, his voice laced with dry humor. “But not overthinking isn’t something I’ve ever been good at.”
CJ’s mouth curved slightly at that, like he remembered. “Internal replay booth,” he said quietly.
Of course he remembered.
Evan shifted his weight, pressing his back into the wall, hoping it would steady him. It didn’t. His thoughts kept circling around every possible way this could play out. Every outcome led straight back to something he’d already lived through once and hadn’t been able to fix the first time.
“I mean,” Evan added after a second, his voice quiet even though there was no one else there to hear it.
He dragged a hand down his face, fingers pressing briefly into his eyes before dropping back to his side.
“I’ve been actively avoiding you for months now.
Years, if we’re being honest. And now I’m standing in an elevator with you, actively not avoiding you. ”
CJ shifted slightly beside him, close enough that Evan felt the movement more than saw it. “That a bad thing?”
“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. The elevator slowed to a stop. “But I guess we’re gonna find out.”
The doors slid open with a soft chime, but neither of them moved.
For half a second, Evan stood there with the doors open in front of him and a clean, easy exit within reach.
He could step out of the elevator, turn toward their apartments, and continue on to his own place like he’d done a hundred times before.
He could pretend this was just another moment he’d chosen control over whatever this was. He knew how to do that.
But then CJ tilted his head and stepped out, and Evan followed because there was no other choice.
The hallway was exactly the same as it had always been. Same carpet, same lighting, same quiet stretch of doors that led to nothing more dramatic than people going about their lives. For a second, Evan expected it to feel normal. It didn’t.