I sank onto the arm of the couch, my heart kicking an uneven rhythm against my ribs.Is she seriously asking me to run away with her?
The very idea of it should’ve sounded reckless and juvenile, but instead, a big part of me lurched toward it, latching on and refusing to let go, but then, completely uninvited, Kate’s face flashed through my mind and I squeezed my eyes shut.
Focus. This is Emma.
Emma, who knew my fears, my stupid habits, and the things that kept me awake at three in the morning. Emma, who had been on the other side of my phone for so long, I wasn’t even sure what I’d do with the fucking thing if I lost her. She knew everything about me except my name.
Not my real name. Only the screen name I’d used to join that Discord years ago.
She also didn’t know my family, or the weight that came with my last name, or about the business deals that followed us like storm clouds. She didn’t know my face or how completely her life would change if I actually let her into mine.
Kate did.
Kate knew exactly who I was and she still looked at me like I was someone she might be willing to stand beside instead ofagainst. Eventually, anyway. I scrubbed a hand over my mouth, frustration clawing under my skin.
What the hell is wrong with me? This is Emma, you idiot. Focus. I mean it.I forced myself to stop thinking and start typing.
Me: Where would we even go?
The reply came after a long pause.
Emma: Anywhere. Somewhere new. Someplace no one expects us to be.
My pulse hammered harder, a strange clarity settling over me. I needed to see her. I needed reality to either match the years we’d built together or crack it wide open.
Me: Meet me at the Amtrak station. Tonight.
Another pause, but it was shorter this time.
Emma: You’re serious?
Me: Yeah. Now. Let’s just go.
I set the phone down before I could change my mind, the decision sending a jolt of pure energy through my bloodstream. This was easily the most reckless thing I’d ever done in my life, but it was necessary.
For as long as I had all these questions about Emma, I would never be able to move on. Not even just romantically, but also with my life. That was all I needed to know before I was on my feet, grabbing my wallet off the kitchen counter and shoving it into my back pocket. I slid into my jacket without even bothering to fix my collar and jammed my feet into my shoes without going back for my socks.
Adrenaline rushed through me in sharp, electric bursts. Running away wasn’t my style. I fixed problems. I negotiated them into submission and I never backed down. I sure as hell didn’t abandon my entire life on a whim. But this was my last chance.
I yanked the door open, already reaching for my keys with my mind sprinting ahead to train schedules and how to keep this out of the media, but then I stopped dead.
Kate stood across the hallway in her own door, one hand gripping the frame and her hair hastily pulled back, loose strands falling around her face. She wore leggings and an oversized sweater, her cheeks flushed and that whiskey-hued gaze brighter than I’d ever seen it. I just couldn’t tell if it was anxiety or excitement.
Her eyes snapped to mine when my door opened, her chest rising like she’d run a marathon. For a long, suspended second, neither of us spoke, just staring at each other across the way instead. We were both half dressed, still shoving arms into coats, both breathless, and both looking like we were seconds away from bolting in opposite directions.
My heartbeat slammed against my ribs so loud, I swore she had to hear it echoing down the hall. Her gaze dropped briefly to the keys dangling from my fingers and her lips parted like she was about to say something, but then they pressed together again, uncertainty flickering across her features.
All I had to do was tell her good night and march to the elevator. The Amtrak station wasn’t even that far away. I could be there in minutes. But I didn’t move. I just looked into those golden hazel eyes and wondered why, suddenly, I didn’t think I wanted to.
CHAPTER 20
KATE
Nate’s hand wrapped so tightly around his keys, his knuckles blanched white. His jacket hung half off one shoulder like he’d dragged it on without thinking, his blond hair mussed like he’d been raking his hands through it for hours.
His chest rose and fell too fast beneath the thin cotton of his T-shirt, his muscles flexing with every breath. As my gaze lifted from his hand, to his chest, to his face, I realized those blue eyes had a storm in them.
This wasn’t the controlled calm he usually wore but something messier and more fractured, almost frantic in its raw energy. It stuck out to me like a sore thumb because it matched exactly how I felt. This wasn’t the look of a man running out for bread or milk. That much, I knew for sure.
