“Fix it,” she says. “Before there’s nothing left to fix.”
I nod again, unsure if my legs will even carry me out the door. The weight of everything Angie said sits heavy on my shoulders.
I push through the door, the bell overhead chiming behind me, and the later afternoon air slaps me in the face. I’m halfway to my truck when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I fumble to pull it out, my fingers suddenly clumsy.
One new message from Analyse. My heart jumps into my throat.
Analyse
Hey.
My thumbs hover for a beat too long. What do I even say? What tone do I take?
Mateo
Hi, chula.
Three dots appear. Vanish. Then come back again. My chest tightens with every passing second.
Analyse
Sorry I haven’t texted you. It’s been busy.
Busy. That could mean anything. Busy avoiding me. Busy untangling her heart from mine. Busy convincing herself I’m not worth the risk. I take a breath and remind myself this is her reaching out. She didn’t have to.
Mateo
That’s okay. I’m just happy to hear from you now. Are you okay?
Another pause. Longer this time. I start pacing the sidewalk in front of the barber shop, phone tight in my grip.
Analyse
Yeah…Can you come over? I think we should have a talk.
The bottom drops out of my stomach. A talk. That could mean anything. Sweat begins to creep down my neck.
Mateo
Of course. I was thinking the same thing.
I slip my phone back into my pocket, hop into my truck, and start it up. Every mile between me and her house suddenly feels like too many.
The drive to Analyse’s place feels longer than it should. My thoughts keep cycling through everything Angie said. Letty’s lies. Analyse’s silence. Her face, looking “rough.”
I park down the street from her house, heart hammering against my ribs. The sun’s just starting to dip, casting everything in dusky gold.
I step onto the porch and knock. Lightly at first, then again. Firmer. A full minute passes. No answer. I raise my hand to knock again, but before I can, the door creaks open. Analyse stands there in sweats, an oversize hoodie drowning her frame. Angie might have said she was looking rough, but that’s not what I see. There are darker circles under her eyesthan usual, and I swear I’ll find out why, but even like this she’s beautiful. She always is.
“Hey,” I say, voice rough.
“Hi.”
She opens the door, stepping aside to let me in. I step inside, and the door clicks shut behind me. Her scent lingers in the air—she smells like strawberries. I follow her into the living room.
“Where’s Maya?”
“She’s still with Seb. He said he hadn’t had a proper tio date in too long.”
