She doesn’t answer right away, and the silence stretches between us—thick, unresolved. It weighs down on me, on both of us.
“If I can smell them out there, then I know you can,” I say, exhaling a frustrated breath. My fingers rake through my hair, a nervous gesture I can’t stop. “I don’t know what you expect from us,” I continue, my voice quieter now, softer. “You come back after all these years, acting like this is just another project for you. But it’s not, Ash. You know it’s not. Unless you sleep with all of the people you partner with.”
It’s a low blow, I know it is, but it’s hard to think of much else…West and her. Her and West. The fact he was with her in a way I’m sure Todd and Xayden crave as much as I do.
Her eyes flash, a brief crack in her mask, and for a moment, I see the woman I used to know—the one I haven’t let myself think about in too long. The pain in her eyes hits me like a truck, and it makes everything I’ve done feel wrong. All the choices I’ve made, the ones we all made, come rushing back.
She takes a deep breath, her jaw tight, but I can see the cracks. “And what do you want me to do, Jake? Pretend the past never happened? Pretend I wasn’t weak the other night?”
Her words hit me harder than I expected. It’s not just the anger in her voice—it’s the hurt. I can feel the pain of it in my chest and, not for the first time, I regret not fighting harder to keep her. To make things right.
I take a step toward her without thinking, my heart pounding. The air feels thick between us, and I wish I could undothe distance we’ve created. I wish I could just hold her in my arms.
“Maybe,” I say before I can stop myself, the word slipping out like a confession. “Or maybe just… acknowledge it. What we did. What we all lost.”
Her shoulders sag and, for a moment, she looks so tired—tired of fighting, tired of pretending. “I know what I lost,” she whispers, the words barely escaping her lips. “You don’t have to remind me.”
There’s a rawness in her voice that catches me off guard, something so vulnerable it almost breaks through everything she’s built up between us. For a split second, I feel the distance between us thin, the walls waver. Without thinking, I take another step closer, reaching for her without touching.
“It wasn’t just you who lost something,” I say, my voice quieter now, as if the truth is finally settling in. “We all did.”
Her gaze drops, and I catch the briefest shimmer in her eyes—something so close to tears it makes my chest tighten. It’s like a sudden surge of emotion, too much to hold in, and it hits me like a blow. But before I can say anything else, she pulls herself together. The moment is gone. Her mask is firmly back in place.
“I can’t change the past, Jake,” she says, her voice steady now, a wall rising between us once more. “All I can do is try to make this work. Then we can all go back to our lives, where we belong.”
Just like that, the space between us solidifies again. The walls go back up, stronger than before, leaving nothing but the quiet hum of the room between us.
I nod, dropping my hand, stepping back, and keeping my distance this time. “Yeah. Sure.”
But even as I say it, the emptiness of the words sinks in, and I know it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough, not when the past is still hanging in the air between us, unspoken, unresolved.
CHAPTER 8
Ashlyn
The studio feels like a battlefield,even in the quiet. The tension lingers, heavy and suffocating, as if the air itself remembers every word exchanged, every wound reopened. I should feel relief now that I’m alone again, but the silence presses harder than their stares ever did.
My tablet shakes in my hands as I sit down, placing it on the desk in front of me. I try to focus, skim through my notes, but the words blur. Jake’s voice, his accusations, his regret—it all keeps replaying in my head.
Or maybe just… acknowledge it. What we did. What we all lost.
His words sting because they’re true, and because I’ve spent years trying to outrun them. I didn’t just lose them—I lost myself, too.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and force a steady breath, pushing the emotions down where they belong. There’s no room for them here, not when I have a job to do.
The door creaks open behind me, and I stiffen. For a fleeting second, I expect one of them—Todd, Jake, maybe even West—to walk back in and keep unraveling everything I’ve spent years stitching back together.
But it’s Shelley. Her heels click against the floor as she strides in, her energy as bright and oblivious as ever.
“How’s it going?” she asks, her tone cheery, as if this is just another day at the office.
I plaster on a smile, the one I’ve perfected for moments like this. “Great. Just ironing out the details.”
She glances at the scattered notes on the desk and raises an eyebrow. “You sure? You look a little…” She pauses, searching for the right word.
“Tired,” I say, cutting her off with a laugh that doesn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s been a long day.”
Shelley’s expression softens, “You don’t have to do this alone, you know. I’m here if you need help.”
