Chapter Twenty-Four
Blue
There’s no electricity in this part of the building, so I drag an extension cord down the hall using only my phone’s flashlight to illuminate my path.
I don’t make a habit of coming here alone at night, but I sneak in on occasion. Sometimes to complete small projects like this, sometimes just to look around and remember that it’s all real. It grounds me at a time in life that occasionally feels a little too surreal.
I change quickly, slipping on a pair of old jeans and one of West’s oversized tees I stole months ago. I tie the side in a knot so it’s not hanging down to my knees, then click on one of the work lights the crew left in the corner.
The angle casts weird shadows across the room, but it gets the job done. I just need to see well enough to open the paint and pour it into the pan, then start rolling on the first coat.
There’s this heavy feeling in my chest as I get my supplies prepped.
I’m… overwhelmed.
As someone who’s had their entire world exposed by Pandora, for all to see and judge, I don’t have it in me to gloat as I think of what April and Reed must be going through tonight.
Regardless of whether their actions were right or wrong—which were absolutely wrong—they should‘ve been afforded some privacy, the opportunity to face their issues in their own time.
But that’s the nature of living in a world where Pandora exists, lurking in every corner waiting for us to slip up.
Omnipresent.
But as much of a nuisance as Pandora has always been, she sometimes seems like a necessary evil.
Because without her, several truths—truths that would’ve otherwise grown in silent malevolence—would have never been brought to light.
The same holds true for April and the part she played in all this, but it seems she forgot the most important part.
When you play with fire, you can and will get burned.
Karma and whatnot.
At the thought of it, my thoughts linger on the most devastating blow April delivered about Pandora’s resurrection. That this new version might not even be an individual, but rather an entire system…
A beast that may never be brought to its knees.
I sync my phone to the speaker I brought with me to drown out the silence with music, then drag the paint roller down the wall, trying to block out all the things. The negative thoughts fighting to get through.
I drove from the diner in a daze, and I’m still in the same state of numbness.
It isn’t lost on me that I’ve been running.
Leaving the gathering tonight without so much as saying goodbye to West is only proof of that.
I didn’t even trust myself to hold my ground if I had to get close again, had to look him in his eyes.
I’m so weak for him.
Time hasn’t changed that.
On one hand, I’m grateful he seems to have broken through whatever walls he had up and wants to communicate now. But on the other hand… I’m struggling with bitterness.
Like, of course, he wants to talk now.
After things shattered into a million pieces.
I get that everyone does things in their own time, but this is our marriage! Why wait so long to fight for it? And now, I’m just supposed to just go along with everything? Pretend it doesn’t feel like manipulation?
Even the day he stormed into Hunter’s apartment, I allowed the lines to blur yet again. It’s like there’s never any middle ground. We’re either fucking or we’re fighting.
I lower the roller when my heart begins to race. I’m not even that mad at him anymore. Mostly, I’m just terrified that the only way to be together is to accept that we’ll always be dysfunctional.
And I can’t live like that.
I won’t live like that.
Not again.
“Want some company?”
“Shit!” My paint roller clatters to the floor as I whirl around.
It takes a few seconds to realize I’m not about to be hacked into a thousand pieces by a serial killer. It’s only Seth.
“Sorry,” he grins, holding back a laugh. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I can’t even answer as I clutch my chest, trying not to have a heart attack.
He steps into the room, and I turn down the speaker, realizing it was probably dumb to be working alone at night with it playing so loudly.
“Burning the midnight oil?” He laughs when I arch a brow. “That’s something my dad used to say. I honestly don’t even understand the reference.”
I laugh and it lightens the mood. “Well, I am indeed burning the midnight oil. Thought I’d make myself useful. What’re you doing here so late?”
He hooks his thumbs through the beltloops of his jeans. “Just came to grab a few tools. I’m remodeling my first-floor bathroom, but it looks like you could use some help.”
I grab the roller from the floor and dip it in the paint pan, breaking eye contact when I remember our last interaction. The last thing I want is for him to misread my body language, thinking it’s okay to cross that professional boundary again.
“Actually, I’m just going to slap on the first coat to give the guys a headstart. Shouldn’t take me too long.”
“Yeah, but with both of us working at it, we’ll get done twice as fast, right?”
He doesn’t wait for my response before unbuttoning his plaid shirt. He drapes it across the back of a chair near the door, opting to work in a t-shirt instead.
“Got another roller?”
I don’t answer right away, studying him to make sure he’s not up to something.
“Over there,” I say, pointing at the bags from the hardware store sitting on the windowsill.
“Sweet.”
He gets started and it’s a little too quiet for me, so I turn the music back on. Only, not quite as loud this time. We get through a few songs before he speaks again.
“You’re pretty good at this. Done a lot of painting?”
I cycle through childhood memories, recalling the five or six times I had to patch holes my father punched in the drywall. I got pretty good at spackling and painting to make things look like new. It’s too personal to share, so I give the simple answer instead.
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Painting was actually my first job. I started a small operation when I was in high school. I made enough over the summer to buy my first car.”
“So, you’ve always been an entrepreneur then. Cool.”
Seth nods. “There were a few hourly jobs here and there in my late teens, but for the most part, yep. Guess I never really liked being told what to do.”
“Does anyone really?” I ask with a laugh.
“Guess you’re right.”
I re-wet my roller, then move on to a new section of the wall.
“My first and last job was working at my uncle’s diner. I’m sure he bossed me around a bit when I first started, but I don’t even remember those days. I put in so many hours there, things that needed to be done were just instinct, you know?”
“I get that,” Seth nods. “How was it working for family, though?”
I shrug. “Fine. Uncle Dusty’s always been more than just an uncle, so that’s probably got a lot to do with it. He’s been more of a dad to me than my actual dad, so it helps knowing he’s always got my best interest at heart.”
Seth is quiet, and I feel exposed, like I’ve said too much, blurring that line of professionalism.
“Fathers can certainly do a number on us,” he mumbles, but then doesn’t probe for more information, which I appreciate.
Besides, now that he follows Pandora, there probably isn’t much about my life he doesn’t already know.
We keep the rest of the conversation light as we finish up, standing back to look over our work when we’re done.
It’s nearly midnight, which means I would’ve been here much later if I’d gone at this alone, so… I guess it was better having help.
“Thank you for staying.”
He nods. “We do pretty good work together.”
“Yep,” I laugh, tossing my trash into the can so we can get out of here. I’m beat and just want to get back to Hunter’s to shower and climb into bed.
I kill the music next, dropping the speaker into my duffle bag. My keys are in the side pocket, so I’m pretty sure I have everything. Seth turns off the light and winds the extension cord, setting it near the window where moonlight floods in.
We start toward the steps and make our way down in silence. For me, the awkwardness is because I’m still uncomfortable being alone with him, especially in the dark.
I stop in the foyer when I think I may have forgotten my phone but realize it’s in my back pocket.
“If you’re ever inspired to do a little late-night painting, just give me a call. I’ll drop in to help.”
I smile but keep it chill. “Thanks, but you already spend an unholy number of hours here, so…”
“Yeah, but this was nice,” he says. “Hanging out with you, getting to talk about something other than work.”
There’s this strange twisting in my stomach, and I’m suddenly even more focused on making a clean break. But before I get the chance…
Seth’s mouth crashes down onto mine.
My hands fly to his chest, pushing him away to create some distance. Through the darkness, I can feel the anger etched across my face as I stare at him.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He seems confused, like he thought this was what I wanted. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Go,” I hiss. “Now!”
“Blue, I… I thought you—”
“You thought what?”
In his silence, I fill in the blanks myself. That he mistook my kindness for something it never was. That he thought Pandora’s posts about my rocky marriage meant there was room for him to slip in.
But he was wrong.
Dead fucking wrong.
His expression straightens as his gaze lowers to the ground. “Should I assume you don’t want me to come back?”
I place my hand over my lips, shaking from head to toe.
“I don’t know, Seth. Just… go.”
He lingers a few seconds, staring like he wants to apologize a hundred more times, but he does us both a favor and leaves.
The second the door closes behind him, I take a breath, completely shocked by what just happened. When I left the diner to clear my head, to find peace… this was far from what I had in mind.