Chapter 35
Artemis
Fluorescent lights hum overhead like they’re mocking me with how awake they are. I wish I could say the same. I’m running on two hours of sleep, maybe? There’s an ache crawling from my skull down to my fingertips, like my body is begging me to quit.
I’m also running on an energy drink that tastes like battery acid, and the hollow, buzzing twinge of my brain and all my major organs slowly shutting down. Engineers are arguing around me. Lawyers are emailing firestorms. My phone keeps vibrating with alerts I’m too exhausted to read.
And Scott—good, patient, no-bullshit Scott—took the day off work to sit vigil with me.
And has been watching me unravel like a messy ball of yarn all morning.
Every flinch, every exhale of frustration—he catalogs them all like he’s mapping a minefield I can’t see, in case he puts his foot somewhere he shouldn’t.
He finally snaps. “Artemis, sit down before you fall down. It’s two days before Christmas Eve. You know that, right?”
“I’m fine.” It comes out sharp and brittle, like an ice blade that’s one good swing from shattering. Shit. Is it really Christmas Eve Eve—the day before Christmas Eve—tomorrow?
Scott folds his arms. He’s clearly not buying it. Don’t blame him, roles reversed, I wouldn’t either. “When’s the last time you ate?”
Fuck if I know. “I’m working.” I tap at the folder in my hands like that proves something.
“No.” He fires back before I can get traction under my argument. “You’re drowning. And dragging the entire ridiculous merger down with you.” His words hit harder because he’s right.
“He fights hard, so you push harder. You’re both as bad as each other. You’re both going to go broke if you’re not careful. Why don’t you just tell him it’s you and figure out something more amicable than him digging his heels in?”
Both as bad as each other? The fuck I am. I pinch my eyes shut, temples throbbing. “This was supposed to be a clean merger. A straightforward acquisition. The regulators were already signing off until—”
“Until your father walked in and salted the earth.” Scott finishes his sentence, shifting his weight in the seat next to mine as he shoves a sandwich in front of me.
“I know. You’ve told me. Repeatedly. As if naming the wound helps you stop bleeding.
But it’s making you bleed out even faster, Arte. ”
I exhale through my nose, long and uneven. He’s one of the few people who gets away with talking to me like that. So, I take a bite of the sandwich instead of breaking his nose. My tolerance today is threadbare.
“You need support, Artemis. You can’t keep this pace and a relationship and full-time school. Something’s going to give.” Scott softens, just a fraction, because tough love is what we do, it’s what we’ve always done.
My spine snaps straight. He’s jumped face first into treacherous territory.
“Don’t. Just don’t.” I cram another bite in my mouth, chewing like the sandwich did me dirty.
“I’m not judging.” His voice is painfully calm. “But I’ve seen you turn down anything that looks like joy for years. And now you’ve finally let someone in—”
“No.” It comes out too fast and is far too obvious. But it’s also too fucking late to deny anything. A flash of heat travels up my spine. Shit. He’s got me, and we both know it.
Scott blinks. “You can say his name, you know.”
I look away, my jaw clenched so hard I hear the grind in my ears.
“Pretending you don’t care doesn’t negate the fact this is the wrong guy at the wrong time, Artemis.” He tries again, more gently, shaking his head like he pities me. I fucking hate pity.
I shake my head right back, but he arches a brow, he still doesn’t believe me. Again, I don’t blame him. He’s been my best friend for years and knows me better than I know myself. But admitting Xavier’s important to me feels awfully like… something.
And that’s what finally cracks me open. Not anger. Not shame. But fear.
Cold, gripping, chest-wringing fear. “If my asshole father finds out…” The words scrape out of my dry throat. “If he even suspects I have a soft spot, he’ll use it. He’ll drag Xavier into the middle of this and turn him into a pawn or—” I cut myself off. Imagining it hurts too much.
Scott studies me, eyes lowering. “So, you’re what? Pushing him away? Pretending you’re just not into him?”
My mouth goes dry. I’m guilty on both charges. Scott doesn’t know the half of it. The lying by omission. The half-truths. The way I keep Xavier tucked into the secret, hidden pocket of my life like a treasure I’m terrified to show anyone.
“You can’t keep him a secret forever.” Scott’s voice is filled with what sounds like fear too. “And if you try, you’ll lose him.”
My throat tightens, traitorous. I force out the worst words I can find. “It’s not serious.”
Scott freezes.
I hear it as soon as it falls from my lips—The Lie. It’s cowardice, self-defense masquerading as logic. And I hate myself instantly.
Scott slowly leans back, his expression shuttering.
“Well.” He pauses for a long beat as though he’s giving me time to take back the lie or follow it up with a half-truth.
But the only thing filling the silence lingering between us is the ticking of the clock on the wall.
“Good. Like I said, wrong guy, wrong time.”
He looks at my phone that’s turned face down on the table in case Xavier texts while he’s in the room with me. “He’d only drag you down, Arte. And right now, you don’t need any more drag.” He leaves the room but doesn’t slam the door, which somehow makes it worse.
The moment he’s gone, I hang my head in my hands, hating every cell in my body for the words I just spoke. I sit there in the echo of his footsteps, feeling smaller, weaker, and lonelier than I have in years.
Not serious? Xavier Martinez? The man who can quiet my pulse with one voice note? The man who wants to listen to me breathe at night? The first person I’ve ever been truly serious about?
The guilt burns through me like acid. I grab my keys. I can’t breathe, especially not around people who believe me when I lie about the one person I don’t want to lie about.