I raised a brow, opening files on my desk to dismiss her. She left without another word.
Idohave such an impact on Nina Reyes. Time to make sure she can’t recover from this.
I waitedoutside the cupcake shop, leaning against the brick wall. The sun fought to dominate the horizon, bruised purple clouds crashing against orange hues. A violent sunset for a vicious conversation.
Nina emerged, keys jangling as she locked up, her black hair pulled into a messy knot at her nape, waves escaping and curling down her back. She froze when she turned, gentleness dying in her dark-brown eyes.
I did that to her. The second time I ever saw her, she was at her shift at the theater, scooping popcorn and smiling at a red-haired guy. Our eyes locked, my heart drumming beneath my ribcage. Her russet eyes wrapped in tenderness and sorrow until I cracked a joke about her dead parents, siphoning the sweetness out of her. I became fascinated by how softness abandoned her features. Needing to see it more often than I cared to admit. By the time I cracked another joke at the expense of her grief during senior year Econ, all it took was for her to spot me and her eyes would lose warmth. I missed watching the change closely, her gaze on mine.
Now, she always braced for the hit. There was anger in her eyes, and that tiniest moment where she’d look at me and think that maybe this time would be different had been long gone.
I smiled at her, pushing off the wall, dimples showing. She winced, and the taste of power flooded my tongue.
“Leave me alone,” she said, not meeting my gaze, fumbling with her tote.
“That’s not how this works.” I stepped forward. “We need to talk about your… freelance activities.”
She clutched her bag tighter, shaking her head. “No. I’m done going along. I’m not afraid of you.”
She tried to dart around me, but my hand shot out, gripping her elbow. She gasped, trying to wrench herself away.
“No, Reyes,” I spat out, tightening my grip. “Listen to me. Post as many pictures of cupcakes, croissants, and fucking cappuccinos as you want. Reel away for stay-at-home moms who side gig as bakers. But any client from my firm reaches out,you turn them down.” I punctuated the last four words to drive the point home. “You take what I dish out to you—just like you always have. Got it?”
She wrestled with my arm until she broke free, stumbling backward and almost falling. That’s when she changed. Her chin tilted upward. Anger took over her eyes. It clung to me, swirling and thickening the way smoke would. I couldn’t help the half hum, half chuckle that slipped my throat—until her hand met my cheek.
My vision blurred, zoning in on the redness of her hand. I palmed my cheek, feeling the warmth of her touch. I was stunned into silence, but my heart thudded, remembering that seventeen-year-old who saw his own sorrow in hers. A stupid boy who thought she’d ease his pain. This was what I’d needed, though. A reaction from her. Eyes alive and blazing, chest heaving.She was so beautiful when she hated me.
“Don’t you get it?” she said, fury coating her words. “This isn’t fucking gossip. This isn’t an uncomfortable high school prank. This is mylife. Not that you’d care.”
She then turned, rushing away as her shoulders heaved.
“Oh, run, Nina, run.” I followed her, my voice overtaken by venom. “No wonder your life is such a fucking wreck and mine isn’t. I gotpromoted.You’re not taking my clients and raining on my parade, so savor your miserable job like the sad, lonely brat you are.”
“Leave me alone. I’ll take whatever business I want.” She turned her head to me one last time. “I hope all this shit comes back to you tenfold one day.”
She scrutinized me, head to toe, with utter disdain. No fear or anticipation in her gaze, just finality. Still staring at me, she stepped off the curb as headlights barreled toward her.
Time thinned and snapped, whipping through the air as overstretched rubber band would. My pulse kicked, legs moving on instinct.
“Fuck—Nina!” I lunged forward, grabbing her arm to yank her back. The first car screeched, barely missing her, a stream of curses shouted out at her. I shouted back at one driver as she shook next to me. Neither of us saw the other vehicle. I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.
The car swerved, horn blaring. She rolled on the pavement. Safe. Then my vision flashed white with pain as something cracked the side of my head. Pain exploded, and the world tilted sideways.
I heard shouting—hers, someone else’s. I was cold. Wet. Her face blurred above me, hair brushing cheeks, brown eyes wide and terrified, like I was someone worth mourning.
“Lincoln, Lincoln!” Her voice made the pain worse; the emotion in her eyes helped.
I tried to smirk, but my mouth wouldn’t move. Tried to say something clever. Nothing came out. All I saw was her hair and eyes. Large russet-colored tender eyes. Then everything went dark.
6
Nina
By the time the EMTs arrived, Lincoln was wincing, eyes flickering beneath half-closed lids. His hand latched onto mine before I could step away for their assessment. So they worked around me, checking his pupils, securing his neck, putting an oxygen mask on him. His hand rested loosely in mine, fingers clammy and shaky. He’d squeezed as I moved away when he was being loaded onto a stretcher.
In the ambulance, he drifted in and out, mumbling incoherently. Once at the hospital, he was awake but disoriented, holding on to my hand for dear life.
The paramedic leaned down to his ear. “Sir, you’re at MSC Hospital. We need you to let go to proceed with testing.”
