Chapter 26
Chapter
Twenty-Six
Amber
Six months ago, my ex-boyfriend crashed through my front door, accusing me of cheating on him.
I don’t remember how many times he hit me or even how I locked myself in my bedroom.
I do remember hearing his screams from the other side of the door as someone else beat the shit out of him in my kitchen.
Moments later, a stunning blonde woman opened my bedroom door and introduced herself.
“Hi Amber, it’s nice to finally meet you face to face. I’m Alana.”
In my living room, five men with bloody knuckles stood around my unconscious ex.
They said something about him being high on drugs and about a fresh tattoo on his arm.
From there, I was swept away for medical treatment.
The next day, I was moved into a compound filled with women.
In their lives before the compound, many had been sex-trafficked and abused.
But here they were given a home, food, and mental and physical health support.
Most importantly, they had a new opportunity—a stake in a gaming company they owned, programmed, and marketed themselves.
And they hired me as the head of design.
I spent the following six months healing and creating. More importantly, I have a support system and a community I’ve never had before. I’m stronger and more confident than I’ve ever been. It feels like a lifetime in the making.
Tonight, we’re launching a match-three game in the vein of our hit Bubble Gum Pop Princess, but this one has cute animals, including a fox. It makes me feel happy and sad every time I see it.
All the programmers and developers are here at the launch party.
None of the women are dressing to make their partners look good.
Most of us are single and not really looking for a man to take us home.
When we get dressed up, it’s for ourselves—pretty and sparkly with ruffles, or comfortable shoes and clothes that are leisurewear in disguise.
There’s a power here—a purely feminine energy supporting one another.
The speakers play Amanda Chase and we’re all singing and dancing along, finally comfortable in our own skin.
And of course, when you’re not looking for a relationship, that’s when one walks in the front door.
I spot Ryan in the crowd. I’m not sure how long he’s been here, but he looks good—healthy, without that cloud of dread hanging over him.
He’s wearing a white T-shirt with a black sports coat.
His hair is slicked back and styled. With one long exhale, all the air leaves my lungs, my heart pounds, and heat pulses through my skin.
My body reacts long before my mind can catch up.
A flurry of emotions hits me—hopefulness, anxiety, a bit of fear and resentment, and an underlying current of excitement.
But which one will win when he walks over?
I’ve known he was working for Alana for a little while, but as much as I tried to get information about him, everyone guarded it like it was a Lena Goodlove album drop.
Okay, bro, it’s been six months. What’s your opening line going to be?
“Hi.” Classic.
My lips curl. “Hi.” Old Amber would’ve let him off the hook, just with the simplest gesture of kindness. But I’m stronger now. “We never finished our conversation. I believe you were groveling the last time we spoke.”
“I’ve spent the last few months working on myself in hopes that I will be worthy of love and be able to apologize to a woman I know I hurt.”
I rehearsed this in my head every night as I fell asleep. I had the lines down and now it was time to say it all. “You hurt me, lied to me, and you don’t get to come back like everything’s fine. Because it’s not.” Look at me putting boundaries in place. The girls will be so proud.
He dips his head and kicks at one of the balloons that are scattered on the floor.
It bounces up in the air, floats for a second, and falls slowly to the ground before rolling away and joining another group of balloons.
“I am very aware. And I can’t change the past, but I can do better for the future.
” He turns away and exhales. “I’m sorry if I’m wasting your time.
I should go. I’m not even supposed to be here.
The doctor said I need to get some sleep before tomorrow. ”
This piques my interest. “Why?”
His eyes lock in with mine as he says, “Because I’m getting prepped for brain surgery in the morning.”
My hands cover my mouth. How can I feel both fear and relief at the same time? Those two emotions should be at odds with one another. “Wait? You’re getting the surgery?”
“I was going to tell you I had made up my mind about getting the surgery the night everything went to shit.” He shrugs and takes his hands out his pockets.
“It was a little dicey there for a while after the cluster seizures, but I got the green light a month ago, and tomorrow was the first opening on the schedule.”
My heart flutters and my hands move on their own, lacing my fingers with his.
He continues. “Nothing’s one hundred percent, but it means I could live my life with slightly less fear. I’ve been assured my doctor won’t be near any allergens twenty-four hours before, so sneezing won’t be an issue.”
I laugh a little and he smiles back. The tension is broken for now. “How are you feeling about it?”
“Nervous, but at least I know what I’m getting into. It’s you I’m not so sure about.”
I tilt my head. “I’m scarier than brain surgery?”
His thumb makes little circles on my knuckle. “Sure. With brain surgery, I might not be able to do math anymore—although statistically that’s unlikely. But with you, there’s so much more to lose.”
Over his shoulder, I see my friends doing a terrible job of hiding that they are eavesdropping. A few are fanning themselves to fight back the tears while others are bouncing on their toes.
I dig through my purse, pull out my phone, and shoot off a quick text.
Me: Why now? Why tonight?
Alana: Because tomorrow his hair will be all fucked up and you won’t be able to hold it while he’s going down on you.
I laugh—then ugly snort—and show him the text. He chuckles and leans in.
“Really sucks for you, because it’s getting late and I’m not allowed to eat past midnight.” Before I can move, he places his forehead against mine. The gesture is familiar and comfortable. “I’m really glad Alana’s hobby is fixing other people. Who knows what she’d do without it.”
I laugh. “Right? Without it, she’d be a world leader within forty-five days, or she’d knit a lot of sweaters.”
“I see her making custom costumes for pets.”
“Or lots of masks.”
Now we’re both laughing and people are starting to stare. I take his hand and I lead him away from the watching friends. Once in a quieter corner, I turn to face him. “It’s probably better we take it slower this time.”
He closes his eyes for a second, and when he opens them, he seems lighter and more confident. “More truthful this time, too.”
My arms wrap around his neck. “I can be there at the hospital if you want.”
His smile falters as his brows tighten and he exhales. “Nothing about the next few weeks will be easy.”
“The good things never are.” I lean up on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. His fingers weave through my hair as he pulls me closer. Our kiss is raw and hopeful, with no delusions about our future. This time, we have one.