Kace (Pittsburgh Titans #20)

Prologue

Elena

Fridays were supposed to mean something, something that wasn’t whatever the hell I usually felt.

Something that resembled freedom, fun, or even release.

But for me, they always felt like pretending.

Like they were just another day to put on a dress over a bruise, like life would somehow get better just because the calendar said so.

The office lights hummed above my head as I shut down my computer.

I watched as everyone packed up to leave, rushing to escape the very thing they had begged for, their laughter echoing through the hallway.

I smiled when I needed to, said “see you Monday” as though I meant it, and walked out into the city night like everyone else.

By the time I finally clocked out, my brain felt like fried wires wrapped in expensive perfume and exhaustion.

The city outside buzzed like it usually did.

The air was filled with the sounds of car horns honking, and people’s idle chatter as they walked past you.

The smell of rain, wet earth, and greasy fried food mixed in a way that always made me think of endings for some reason.

Maybe because the streets looked too clean afterward, like the rain had somehow washed away everything messy and human…

leaving me behind. I shoved my phone into my pocket and thought about cancelling on the girls again.

I’d done it the last three Fridays, but the thought of sitting alone in my apartment made my chest ache, so I didn’t.

I told myself I’d go, smile, drink, laugh, and maybe forget.

..forget it all just for a little while.

The restaurant was alive as I walked in, a constant reminder of what I wasn’t.

Neon lights assaulted my tired eyes, while the never-ending chatter and sharp hiss of oil frying chicken filled my ears in a way that made the dull headache pound in my head.

My friends were already there, waving me over with an excitement that only made me feel guilty.

Talia’s lipstick was smudged, Mara’s hair glittered with leftover office confetti, and both looked too happy for this world, too happy for me, too happy… period.

“You’re late, sinner,” Mara teased, sliding a glass of beer toward me. “We were about to toast to your tragic love life.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Don’t you think tragic is a big word for something that doesn’t exist?”

Talia smirked. “So he’s still in the picture.”

“He’s not,” I said, biting into a wing. “He’s just…blurry around the edges. You gotta squint really hard to catch him,” I joked, and they filled the conversation with their laughter, the sound so warm it made some of the exhaustion from the week melt away.

We talked about everything and nothing, from coworkers to bad sex, and now? Who’d die first if life were a horror movie? Me.

“Definitely me,” I said, sipping my beer.

Mara rolled her eyes. “You? Please. You’d survive just to haunt the killer for ruining your aesthetic, and trying to end your beer and chicken days.”

“I agree with her on that one…you’re definitely the one staying alive to tell our tale,” Talia concurred, swallowing down more of her drink.

I grinned, even though a part of me thought, “no, I’d just let it happen.” Even though a part of me knew that they would be telling my tale soon…if I had one to begin with.

The laughter blurred for a second, and my friends’ faces softened and stretched.

Their voices began to fade until all I could hear was the clinking of glasses and the low hum of the city outside.

It almost felt like I had hot sizzling oil on my skin; like the air conditioner was broken, making it feel like a sauna in here.

I could sense it all, yet I knew it wasn’t real.

I sighed, then stared at the reflection in my drink.

A raven-black haired girl with tired eyes stared back at me, with a half smile and no idea why she was still trying so hard to be normal.

She whispered the same things I’ve heard for the last year; the things I had finally agreed to listen to.

“You okay?” Mara called, pulling me back from the darkness that matched my pendant…her pendant. Mom’s.

“Yeah,” I said automatically. “Just tired.”

Tired of what? She didn’t ask. And I couldn’t be more grateful that we did this on Friday nights, because being tired was a given. It was the easiest get out of jail free reply that had no one asking you anything more. Even if someone did, I wouldn’t know how to answer anyway.

The night continued, with more conversations and laughing, until it slowly started becoming easy, for a while at least. The table smelled of spice, garlic, and soju. Someone spilled beer, while someone else made a bad joke. I laughed until my cheeks hurt, pretending that was enough.

When the night ended, we hugged like we always did, and I basked in their embrace.

Talia smelled like honey and cigarettes, and Mara told me she loved me, like she did every Friday.

It made me smile and reminded me that I always had an “I love you” waiting for me at the end of the week.

Though now, it just made me guilty, almost to the point of crying.

I decided to take a walk instead. Why? I couldn’t pinpoint a single reason tonight, though I had many of the usual ones to pick from.

Enjoy the cold? So I could be familiar with it?

Enjoy the view? Appreciate the Christmas decorations?

Or pay my last respects to the streets that harbored me for five years… that was my favorite reason.

As I continued walking, watching the world melt into streaks of light, I felt my phone buzz.

You up?

I stared at the message for a long moment, my thumb hovering over the screen. I hoped some kind of emotion would surface, but absolutely nothing came.

Sure.

I sent a reply after taking a deep breath.

Fifteen minutes later, I was outside his apartment. My mascara was smudged from the rain, but I didn’t care. My mind was numb, though my brain begged my pussy to be wet for one last fuck.

I was about to pull out my phone and text him to let him know I was here, but of course he was waiting on the front step when I arrived.

He stood there shirtless, smiling with a lazy, confident, little smile like he always did.

It was the kind of smile that used to make me weak, before I realized how hollow it was.

Nothing…that’s what I felt when his hands slid over my body, grabbing my breasts in the rough way he liked.

When his lips brushed the side of my neck, biting just hard enough to leave a bruise, but gentle enough that the bruise won’t last the next 24 hours, my body didn’t respond.

When his hand snaked down to my skirt and slipped into my pussy, I felt…

nothing. Just the usual ache in my chest that wasn’t from desire but from exhaustion.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember what it was like to feel something like heat, want, the fluttering in my stomach when I was excited…anything that would make me enjoy this at least a little bit, but it was gone.

His voice was soft as he whispered the kind of things a girl would melt for. “You’re so beautiful, Elena…always.” But I wasn’t that girl.

I smiled because that was what he needed from me.

After all, he was good and kind, and he’d never understand why I couldn’t meet him halfway anymore.

I kissed him back, let him take control because it was something he enjoyed.

I let him move against me; I did all the things I was supposed to do.

But my mind wasn’t here; it was somewhere cold and quiet, somewhere that didn’t ask anything of me.

When it was over, he rested gently beside me, tracing lazy shapes on my shoulder. “You okay?” he asked, his voice drowsy with something that felt like affection.

“I’m fine,” I replied, my reflexes kicking in. I took in a sharp breath, bracing myself.

The silence between us stretched, and finally, he sighed. It was the kind of sound that belonged to people still trying, pushing past worry and pride, making sure the person they liked was actually fine. “You’ve been distant lately. Work stress?”

I almost laughed. Work stress? If only it were that simple.

If only my life could be this fucked up by just work stress.

If only going to work every day could cause this kind of emptiness, this regret…

this guilt. Then maybe I would just quit and there…

problem solved. But the voice in my head laughed at me, hard and mocking, because she knew that there was only one way to solve the problem.

It was the one way I was finally embracing.

“Maybe, it could be that,” I lied through my teeth. He would never understand, and even if he tried to, he was too good for whatever darkness lived inside me.

He sat up a little, knitting his brows together in concern; real, genuine concern. “What else is it? You’ve barely looked at me all night, Lena. Did I do something?”

The only thing he did was think someone like me had a chance, think that these casual fucks we had could be something more. He was too good for this…for me.

I took my time sitting up, pulling the blanket closer around me. I didn’t look at him when I said, “I think I want to end this.”

The words didn’t shake, or sound foreign, but I wish it didn’t sound so detached.

It was as if someone else had borrowed my voice and cut right through him.

I wanted it to sound like something that hurt me, ‘cause even though it didn’t, I wanted him to know I was grateful for whatever this was.

That the ten to twenty five minutes of sex made me forget, and for that, I really was grateful.

He blinked, very confused, searching my face for a trace of a joke. “What?” He gave a short, nervous laugh. “End what?”

“This,” I said simply, gesturing at the two of us, the bed, the pretense. “Us.”

His laugh faded instantly. “You’re serious?” Then the hurt showed, and the look in his eyes almost mirrored mine, and…and…and that broke me even more.

“I am,” I continued. I had to…I had to do this. I had to save him.

“Why?” The word cracked. “I mean…we’re fine, aren’t we? We barely argue. I thought you were happy.” he said.

Happy? I knew what the word meant, but I couldn’t remember how it felt, so I just looked at him…really looked. He was still beautiful in the soft apartment light, all warmth and softness, and everything a good man should be. But good wasn’t enough to help me. Nothing was. Not anymore.

I traced patterns on his sheets, wondering what it’d be like to just…stop existing. To stop waking up and doing all this over and over again.

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I admitted quietly. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I just…I don’t feel it anymore, and it’s not fair to keep pretending.”

He stared at me like I’d just confessed to something cruel, and maybe I had.

“Elena, please,” he pleaded, his voice breaking around my name. “Don’t do this now. It’s Christmas in a week, we were supposed to…”

“I know.” My voice was calm. Too calm. “I’m sorry, I really am, and I hope you don’t hate me for too long.

” I sighed. I didn’t want him to hate me.

If I wasn’t planning to do what I was planning to do, then maybe he could.

But I knew what it felt like to hate the dead, and I didn’t want him to feel like that.

The silence almost killed me, but that was not the plan.

So, with nothing else to say, I got up, found my clothes, and dressed slowly while he sat there in disbelief.

The apartment smelled like cinnamon candles and wine, and the faint sound of carolers drifted in from the street below.

It was all too soft, too warm, and too alive.

“I…” he stopped me as I grabbed the doorknob. “I don’t hate you,” he said, and even through the barely lit room, I could see him smile, so warmly I could almost feel it.

“David…” I whispered, unsure of what to say or do. As he held me, I almost cried for help, told him everything, and what I was going to do. I…almost…

“Merry Christmas and happy birthday, in advance, Elena,” he whispered, kissing my cheek.

“You too.” With that, I left, stepping out into the cold; my soon-to-be home.

The December air had gotten worse lately; it was biting, lonely, and honest. I stood there on the curb, watching my breath fog into the night. For a moment, I thought about how easy it would be to disappear into the quiet and let the snow swallow me whole.

But it didn’t, why? Because that was my job. So, I just pulled my coat tighter and started walking. The chill slipped beneath my skin, and I welcomed it. Because soon, this…this cold, this emptiness, would be all I’ll know.

Everyone always said Fridays were for living.

I guess they were right.

And I just forgot how.