Chapter Nine
Hayden
Unsteady
X Ambassadors
We don’t linger after the check is paid. There’s no reason to. The conversation has already said what it needed to. Outside, the air feels similar to our mood; quiet and cooler.
For a few steps, neither of us speaks. Not because there’s nothing to say, but because there’s so much that still needs to be spoken. I fall into step beside her, shifting automatically to the outside edge of the sidewalk as we turn the corner.
“You’re consistent.” She smiles over at me.
“It works.”
“For you.” A faint smile touches her mouth, gone almost as quickly as it appears. The silence that follows isn’t as heavy as it was inside. I attempt to shift the conversation into something lighter.
“How’s your family?”
She takes a second before answering, like she’s deciding how much of it to give. “They’re good. Still in Connecticut. Still exactly the same.”
“That doesn’t surprise me.”
“They’re lifers. My mom still hosts too many people for the holidays. My dad still pretends he doesn’t enjoy it.”
“As long as they’re happy, some things don’t need to change.”
“No. Some don’t.” The words linger just long enough before she turns them. “What about yours?”
“They’re still in Berwyn.”
Her brows lift slightly. “Really?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you might have moved them.”
“I did.”
That gets her attention, her face turning toward mine, a brow quirking up.
“A house. A few years ago. Closer to Oak Park. It’s safer for them. More predictable. I think it keeps them more grounded.”
She doesn’t interrupt. Just listens.
“I make sure they’re taken care of. Their mortgage is handled. Money goes into an account every month. They don’t have to think about anything.”
“And do they?”
“No.” A pause settles between us before I continue. “They never really recovered.”
“Well, how could they? That kind of loss isn’t something you come back from. You just learn to live with it.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
Her voice softens, but doesn’t waver. “I’m sorry, Hayden.”
A single nod is enough. “They stayed the same though. Nothing really changed. Not in a way that mattered.”
“But, you did.” Her fingers brush down my arm in a soft sweep of comfort.
“Yes.” A heavy sigh leaves me. “I had to. They just, couldn’t.”
A small breath leaves her, thoughtful. “That explains a lot.”
“Does it?” I scrape my fingers through my hair with a slight shake of my head. “I don’t really know how else to explain it. I became what was necessary to survive with them.”
“That’s why you keep your distance from them?”
“It’s easier that way.” I don’t elaborate on the specifics. She knows enough about what happened to not need more. She accepts what I share and seems to understand.
“I don’t think I realized until now how what happened then, is what drove, or what drives your nature.”
“It has to.”
“Does is still need to though?” Her question comes out soft, quiet, and from a place in which I know she’s trying to assimilate the why , with then and now. Quiet settles between us, but it’s different now. I don’t answer the question because I don’t have one that makes sense, maybe even to me.
“You’ve done well for yourself, Hayden. That’s something to be proud of.”
“I did what I needed to.” I shrug, never really good at accepting compliments.
“That’s not the same thing.”
“No, but it’s what got me here.”
“And where is ‘here’ exactly?”
I glance at her, then forward again. “In a city I know. The band is predictable; even if the guys aren’t always, they’re my family. My parents are taken care of. I’m content enough.”
That earns a reaction. Small, but real. “Are you?”
“I thought so.” My brow pulls together as I glance over at the reason I’m no longer sure.
We turn onto her block, her building coming into view sooner than I’d prefer. She slows slightly. I match it without thinking. Neither of us speaks. The quiet stretches again, but this time it feels charged. There’s an awareness between us now that wasn’t there before.
We stop just short of the entrance to her building.
For a second, neither of us moves. A strand of her hair has slipped forward, catching against her shoulder.
It’s nothing, but I reach for it anyway, my hand lifting slowly as my fingers brush up the fabric of her dress, then against the skin of her cheek before I tuck it behind her ear.
She doesn’t stop me. Her eyes lift to mine when my thumb lingers, grazing against her cheek. The look between us an unspoken question. I give her a second, not wanting to assume or rush the moment, and wait for her to step back.
She doesn’t. So, I close the distance, leaning forward, her lids closing as my lips press against hers. It's soft at first. Careful. The kind of kiss that asks before it takes anything.
Her hand comes up, fingers curling into the lapel of my jacket, not pulling, just holding, like she's steadying herself or maybe keeping me there. I'm not sure which. It doesn't matter. Either way, I stay.
There's a restraint in it that wasn't there before. Ten years ago, I kissed her like I was afraid she'd disappear. Like if I didn't hold on tight enough, she would evaporate. And she did anyway.
Now, I kiss her like I've learned something since then. Like I understand, maybe for the first time, that holding on and holding still are not the same thing.
She exhales against my mouth, and it’s barely anything, just a soft release of air, but I feel it rattle through me like something coming loose. My thumb traces once along her cheek, and she tilts her chin up slightly, closing the last fraction of space between us.
When I pull back, I don't go far. An inch, maybe. My forehead tips toward hers out of instinct, and we stay like that for a moment, neither of us speaking, neither of us moving away. Her fingers are still in my lapel. My hand is still against her face.
Her lashes lift and her eyes find mine. There's something unguarded in them that I haven't seen in a long time. Something that looks like the girl I knew, standing inside the woman I'm only just beginning to understand.
"Hayden." My name in her mouth is quiet. Not a question, not a warning. Just recognition. Like she's placing me somewhere.
"I know." Because I do. Because whatever this is, it isn't simple, and we both know it. She doesn't pull back though. Neither do I. The city moves around us like it doesn't know what just happened. Like the world hasn't just shifted some small, irreversible degree.
Her hand releases the fabric of my jacket slowly, smoothing it flat in a gesture so quiet it might not have been conscious. But then her eyes come back to mine, and I know it was.
“This part was never our problem." The words come out quieter than she probably intended, and she seems to know it. Her chin drops slightly like she didn't mean to say it out loud, or maybe she did and she's not sure which one she wishes were true.
I don't rush to fill the space, I just gaze at her. "No ," I admit finally. " It wasn't ."
She glances up.
" It still isn't.”
The words settle between us, and I watch something move through her expression. It’s not surprise exactly, more like confirmation of something she already knows and isn't entirely sure she wants it confirmed.
She holds my gaze for a moment. Then the corner of her mouth lifts, just barely. Not quite a smile. Something quieter than that. "Which is exactly why I'm going to say goodnight, Hayden."
There it is. Measured, deliberate, and completely her own.
I recognize the steadiness in it. She's not retreating, she's choosing.
There's a difference, and we both know it.
I take a small step back, giving her that.
Giving her the space she's claiming without making her feel like I'm releasing her entirely.
"Goodnight, Vanessa." A pause, just long enough, before I brush a soft kiss against her cheek, whispering a soft warning against her ear. "This isn't over. I'll be in touch."
She holds my gaze one beat longer than necessary before she turns toward the entrance. I stay where I am and watch her go, hands easy at my sides, because some things you don't rush. The door closes behind her.
I stand there a moment longer than I need to. Then I turn and walk back the way we came, the city quiet around me, already thinking about when.