I had told Amanda I would never hurt Katie, and I wouldn’t.But damn if it didn’t feel like Katie had just carved my heart open and left me bleeding.
I leaned back, closing my eyes.For the first time, I didn’t know what to do.
42 TWICE THE LIKE
KATIE
I hadn’t spoken to Dylan for three whole days.
Three.Whole.Days.
Which, apparently, was enough time for me to be a mess.I missed him so much it physically hurt, but I also knew I couldn’t just let myself slide back into his arms without sorting through the disaster at work.
So, I did what I always did when I felt like a mess.I journaled.Pages and pages about my feelings, Justin being a dickhead, Dylan’s temper, and how all of it somehow tangled together until my brain felt like it was stuffed with marshmallows.
Between journaling and working from home, I locked myself in my home studio.My workbench was littered with scraps of silver, half-set stones, and sketches of designs that had nothing to do withOpulence’sofficial projects.
They were mine.
The necklace I was piecing together was bold, and I couldn’t wait to finish it.But halfway through polishing a pendant, I found myself sketching a ring.
A masculine one, strong and simple, with a deep green stone at the center.Dylan’s eyes.I carved and soldered until I had something perfect for him, and just holding it made my chest ache with longing.
I missed his morning hoarse voice, his mischievous grin, his pouting and whining.I missed the warmth of his solid body and how silly he was, his lame jokes making me laugh.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I smiled.
The doorbell rang, and I wasn’t surprised to see Amanda storm in.At least she had learned how to ring a bell before rushing in.I scrambled to hide the ring under a pile of papers.
“You’re working,” she said, her eyebrows raised.“Good.Because Dylan’s turned into a zombie, and apparently, that’s my problem—nowyours.”
I walked out of the home studio and went to the fridge.“Beer?”
She froze.“I thought you didn’t drink.”
“Turns out,” I said, handing her a chilled bottle and cracking one open for myself.“I like it when I’m a mess.”
Amanda took a sip.“You’re not a mess.”
I gave her a look and glanced at myself.I was wearing a decade-old t-shirt with holes in the neck, but it was the most comfortable clothing I owned.
“Fine.”She sighed.“You’re a bit of a mess—a hot mess, though.”
“Thank you.”
She leaned back against the counter, bottle dangling from her hand.“So, can you tell me why my brother hasn’t eaten properly in days?He didn’t even go for a run this morning.Do you know what it takes to keep Dylan off his running schedule?The apocalypse.Or, apparently,you.”
My chest tightened.“I… don’t know.”
“Of course you don’t.”She rolled her eyes.“He’s been moping around my apartment, watchingCarson repeat.Cars, Katie.Not evenFast and Furious.He is a fucking mess.”
I looked down at the beer.“It might be because I said something to him,” I confessed.
Amanda narrowed her eyes and raised her bottle as if she were about to make a toast.“Enlighten me.”
So I told her everything.The hallway commotion, Dylan blowing up, my fear of losing control of my professional life, and how I had asked him to leave.
When I finished, she sighed.“Wow.Straight people are weird.Why don’t you just talk to him?”
