Wren laughs softly and shakes her head, but says nothing more. Either she really can’t say, or she doesn’t want to. But I instantly clock her fingers tightening around her drink.
I nod politely, offering a small smile before taking a slow sip of my iced vanilla latte. It’s sweeter than I remember. Too sweet, maybe. Or maybe it’s just that everything around me is starting to feel more complicated than it used to be. Wren is here for a few days. I’ve been here for weeks. And the clock is ticking on all of us.
We make small talk, fill Wren in on Dad’s recovery, swap high school stories that make us groan and laugh, and then—predictably—Jasper finds an excuse to leave early. Something about a project he forgot he needed to help Wren with. Right.
Brooks smirks the moment they disappear around the corner.
"What?" I whisper, elbowing him gently.
"Nothing," he says, trying—and failing—to suppress a grin as we stand. "You like her?" he asks.
"I do," I admit, my eyes following the door they just walked through. "She seems… smitten."
"Jasper, too," Brooks murmurs.
There’s a quiet stretch between us, and then I look over at him. "Tell me something."
"What?" he replies, his gaze softening as he shifts a little closer and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
"Were you serious? About coming to California?" My voice is barely above a whisper now, but it feels impossibly loud in the space between us.
Brooks holds my gaze. I expect an answer. I want an answer. But instead, he leans in and kisses me, slow and sure, like the truth is hidden somewhere in the way our lips fit.
And maybe it is.
I melt into him, letting the weight of all my questions dissolve for just a moment.
Until someone clears their throat.
We break apart, and I turn.
Holden.
He stands there, hands in his pockets, like he’s been standing there long enough to witness more than he should’ve.
Brooks straightens beside me.
"Holden," I say, trying to sound neutral. I’m not sure I succeed.
He nods once, his expression indecipherable. "Well. That answers a few things."
"Can we help you?" Brooks asks, his voice calm but edged with smug satisfaction.
Holden ignores him. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" he says to me, motioning toward the door. "Outside?"
I hesitate. There’s nothing I want to say to Holden. But there’s something in his eyes—something off—that makes me curious. Maybe even cautious.
"Um…" I stall, glancing at Brooks. Then, gently, I touch his cheek and press a quick kiss to his lips. "I’ll be right back."
Outside, the late afternoon heat wraps around me like a too-warm blanket. Humid. Suffocating. Everything feels heavier out here. I wipe my palms on my shorts and face him.
"What’s going on, Holden?"
He shifts his weight. "I was fired."
I inhale sharply. "Okay?"
“They said I’m a liability. Can you believe that?" His voice is sharp with indignation, but beneath it, there’s a note of desperation he’s trying to hide.
