The phone light gets further away.
I nearly stumble over my own feet as I follow her from a distance.
Just in case.
I almost call out to her. To wait.
To talk.
But the words gather unsaid on my tongue as Emilia walks home, and I follow. She lives in a crappy apartment building, and I frown as she pushes the security door open without a code.
That’s not fucking safe.
But she’s not my business. She’s home safe.
There’s no reason for us to ever meet again.
33
Six weeks later - Emmy
It’s getting colder.
The cool air of autumn has shifted into the bitter breeze of winter. I huddle into my coat as I head down the sidewalk, sidestepping a couple holding hands.
I can’t look at them.
My nose burns in the cold air as I hurry. I’m late for work, and Adrian isn’t particularly impressed with me at the moment as it is.
He won’t fire me, though. He was only too glad to take me back after I left to look after Ben. I’m cheap labor, I don’t complain, and I work my ass off.
Anything to keep busy. To not have tothink.
The crisp notes of a guitar float through the air, and my throat tightens as I pass by the entrance to the market, my feet speeding up.
Everything is a reminder of him.
But the music doesn’t fade. It gets louder, and my eyes fall on a busker a few feet away from me. He’s sitting on the ground, a hat pulled low over his ears as he plays.
My feet slow.
Jared.
He doesn’t look up as I pause in front of him, his gaze focused on the strings he plays with surprising talent.
Although Ben did mention he was good.
He’s more than good.
I shift out of the way as someone tosses a bill into the open case in front of him, and his head bobs in thanks.
He glances up, then. Jared’s fingers catch on the strings, the notes jarring before he recovers as our eyes meet.
Deep brown eyes.
Ben’s eyes.
So close to them.
