Chapter 13
There are mornings when I forget the worst of it. Just for a second.
I open my eyes. I breathe. I feel the shape of the day pressing against the edges of my skin, and for a fleeting moment, there’s no pain. No ache behind my ribs. No fog in my skull. Just quiet.
Then it rushes back in.
The weight of everything I’ve done. Everything I’ve lost. Every man I’ve let inside my body just to feel something. Every line I’ve drawn and crossed and drawn again. Every test I have to take to make sure I’m safe from STIs.
I sit up slowly. The air in the apartment is cold and dry. My throat scratches with thirst.
In the kitchen, I fill a glass with water and drink until my stomach cramps. Then I press my forehead to the refrigerator door and close my eyes.Today feels heavy.
Like something is coming and I’m already tired of it.
I check my phone. Nothing from Knox. He’s been quiet since the night he told me about the job offer. That silence settles deep in my chest like disappointment.
I show up to work early again. The Velvet Room feels different now. The music hits differently. The lights are harsher. The patrons blur in a new way. Before, they were just noise. Now I see the edges. The cracks.
Jazz gives me a once-over when I walk in, like she’s not sure what version of me she’ll get today. I get to work without a word. Slicing fruit. Stocking ice. Folding napkins. It’s mindless. It’s safe.
She finally breaks the silence around five. “You hear from him?”
I don’t ask who because we both know who she is talking about. I shake my head. “No.”
She leans against the counter. “Think he’s gone?”
My stomach sinks at the thought. “Probably.”
“You want him gone?”
I pause, knowing I would never want him gone but I expected this not to last. “It’s easier that way.”
She studies me. “Is easier the goal now?”
I keep cutting lemons until my fingers sting. “I don’t know what the goal is.”
“Then maybe that’s the problem.”
I look up. “What do you want, Jazz?”
“I want you to admit that you care about him.”
I drop the knife. It hits the counter with a clatter that makes both of us flinch. “Why does it matter?”
“Because you need something real. Something that doesn’t break you. That gives you life.”
“I don’t trust things that don’t break me and no one is giving me life.”
She sighs. Then walks away.
By eight, the bar is full. Noise. Light. Heat. Everything blends together. I keep my head down and my hands busy. No time to think. No time to feel.
Until he walks in.
Knox.
He doesn’t come to the bar. He stands near the wall, out of the way, watching.
I keep working. Every time I look up, he’s still there. Still watching. The tension is thick. So thick that finally, I snap. I toss my towel onto the counter and storm out from behind the bar.
I don’t stop walking until I’m outside, breathing cold night air and trying not to fall apart. The door opens behind me.
I don’t turn. “You weren’t going to say goodbye?” I ask knowing he’s tired of watching me spiral.
“I didn’t leave.”
“You were going to.”
He steps closer. “I came to tell you I spoke with the board. I’m hiring you full-time. The job you were supposed to have is yours. ”
My breath catches. “Why? I didn’t even graduate.”
He shrugs. “So? I own majority share of the company, Lana. I jus need you to accept.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“It’s the only one I need.”
I finally look at him. His face is tired. His eyes are clear.
“You did that for me?”
He looks deep into my eyes. “I did it because I’m not done with this.”
“This?”
“You. Me. Whatever this is.”
I lean against the brick wall. “I don’t know what to do with that,” I whisper.
“You don’t have to do anything.”
We stand there in silence. Then he says, “I have something to show you.”
The place he takes me is not what I expect. A small building on the edge of the city. Nondescript. No signs. Just a single keypad at the door.
He types in a code. The door opens.
Inside is warmth. Bookshelves. A couch. Dim lights. A coffee table scattered with notebooks and old pens. It smells like cedar and leather and something sweet I can’t place.
“What is this?” I ask.
“My memory room.”
I frown. “Your what?”
He closes the door behind us. “When things got bad for me, I built this place. I needed somewhere I could come back to. A place untouched by everything else.”
He walks to a shelf and pulls down a photo. Hands it to me. It’s a younger version of him, standing beside a woman with bright eyes and a wild smile. She looks like she belongs to the wind.
“My sister,” he says.
I wait.
“She died. A car accident. I was supposed to pick her up that night. I was late.”
He doesn’t cry. But the silence after those words feels thick. “I blamed myself for years. Still do, some days.”
I set the photo down gently. He walks to the other side of the room and picks up a notebook. “Sometimes I write to her,” he says. “Just so the words don’t die inside me.”
I swallow hard. The lump rising faster by the minute. “Why are you sharing this with me?”
He meets my eyes. “You need a place too. Peace.”
“I don’t deserve peace.”
“You deserve it more than anyone.”
I sit on the couch.
The room is too quiet. Too safe. He sits beside me like he did the first night I hung out with him and Sebastian in high school all those years ago.
“I’m not like you,” I whisper.
“You’re exactly like me. Better.”
We sit there for what seems like hours.
No talking.
Just breathing.
And for the first time, I don’t feel like I’m waiting for the world to end. I feel like I might still be in it.
He turns to face me and like all those years ago when I wasn’t Sebastian’s girl. When I wanted to be his girl, but he was clear that he didn’t want a relationship. I turn to face him. I don’t push him away. I lean close. Closer.
I smell his cologne. The scent of his skin.
I get lost in darkness of his eyes. His lips. The taste of his mouth. His breath. We kiss and kiss. Like he’s making up for all the times we didn’t.
For the first time in almost a year, I don’t push thoughts of Knox away. I don’t bury the attraction. I let it surface. I don’t get lost in the thoughts of Sebastian.
I get lost in him.