Maybe she texted.
Maybe—
Hayes: Great game tonight! We’re down the block grabbing food. Kia’s with us. If you’re up to it, stop by.
I stare at the screen until the words blur. After a few seconds, I type out a reply.
Me: Thanks for the offer but going straight home. Talk soon.
It’s all I can manage.
I shove my phone into my pocket and sling my bag over my shoulder as laughter continues to bounce off the walls.
Jax glances up from tying his shoes. “You heading out already?”
“Yeah,” I mutter. “Long day.”
He nods, easygoing as always. “Get some rest, man.”
I give a faint nod back and stride toward the door. The sounds cut off behind me as it swings shut, replaced by the buzz of fluorescent lights and the squeak of my sneakers against the floor.
No one stops me on the way to the parking garage. There’s no small talk or postgame rundowns. Just the steady slap of my footsteps against concrete until I slide behind the wheel and start the engine. The rumble of the Porsche fills the silence as I pull out of the garage and onto the street.
The drive home is quiet. Streetlights flash across the windshield in fractured streaks of light, breaking and reforming on the glass. The city’s alive with cabs rushing by and sirens wailing in the distance. Inside the vehicle, it’s just me and the steady purr of the engine.
I don’t bother turning on the radio or checking my phone.
What’s the point?
Other than that single text the night Rina left, there’s been nothing but silence from her. Every part of me is screaming to reach out and make sure she’s all right. Instead, I keep my distance. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.
As much as I hate to admit it, Kia’s right. Rina needs to figure this out on her own.
And if she doesn’t… Well, then I’m fucked.
I probably should’ve met up with my family and grabbed some food. Maybe it would’ve been better than going home to an empty penthouse and wallowing. But how the hell am I supposed to sit and smile when all I can think about is Rina and the future I want with her?
By the time I pull into my parking space, my chest feels hollow. The elevator ride stretches forever with the kind of quiet that presses against your ears until even the sound of your own breathing is too loud.
The doors slide open with a hiss, revealing nothing but darkness on the other side.
It’s empty, exactly the way I knew it would be.
Even though I told myself not to get my hopes up, that she wouldn’t be here waiting, disappointment slams into me.
Hope’s a real bitch that way.
I toe off my shoes and force myself to move farther inside. The space smells faintly of lemon cleaner, the way it always does.
I’m really starting to hate it.
When I drop my keys on the counter, the sound echoes throughout the stillness. My shoulders sag as I plow a hand through my hair and glance around. The living room looks exactly the way it did before I left for the game. Everything’s in its place.
Untouched.
Perfect.
Lifeless.
