The longing hits me in a rush, and I glance away. But I wait, lingering until he finishes his song.
“You’re still here.” I shift on my feet. “I thought you would have gone home.”
His stubble is a little more grown. Darker. His lips twitch up, but it’s not a smile. “That place wasn’t my home. Figured I may as well stick around here for a while. The landlord agreed for me to stay on.”
He’s still in Ben’s apartment.
“How are you?” The quiet question takes me by surprise. His eyes sweep over me, and I flush.
I shrug, keeping my hands in my pockets.
Exhausted. Barely functioning. Losing track of reality.
“You know.”
“Yeah.” His fingers flicker over the strings, releasing a low, mournful note. “I know.”
Swallowing, I dig around for my phone in my coat pocket and glance at the time.
I’m really late now. Adrian is going to lose his shit. “I… I have to go. I’m late for work.”
But I don’t move.
“Where d’you work?” Jared studies me. His breath makes little white clouds in the air between us.
“The Setlist.” My eyes drop to the guitar. “We’re always looking for musicians. The pay isn’t great, but it’s regular.”
He clicks his tongue. “Maybe.”
It doesn’t sound like a maybe. It sounds like a polite refusal.
I take a step. “Well… take care.”
“You too.”
I feel his eyes on me until I’m out of sight.
I’m out of breath and slightly dizzy by the time I duck behind the bar. Carla glances over, but she doesn’t say anything. Her cheeks are pale.
“You okay?” I pause. “Carla? Is it Katie?”
She ducks her head. “I can’t talk about it, Em. Don’t ask me, okay?”
A stab of emotion slips through the numbness in my chest. Something close to fear. “Okay.”
I pack my own emotions away. Shove them down into the box and take the brunt of the work. Carla is a ghost around me, no sign of her usual cheer to be seen. She stumbles through the first half of our shift.
“We're not doing the trial,” she says suddenly, when we’re restocking the fridges. "We can't."
My hand slips on a glass bottle, and I catch it before it hits the floor.
“God, Carla.” I turn to face her. “I’m so sorry.”
She tilts her shoulders. “The costs are killing us. John can’t work any more hours than he already is. We tried, but we neverhad a hope in hell. They’re going to try another course of chemo, see if it does anything.”
She sniffs. “It might work this time.”
“Another course sounds positive.” I try to sound encouraging. “She’s strong, Carla.”
