The vibration of my phone on my thigh startles me back to reality. The caller ID alone is enough to spike my heartbeat—not with excitement, but with dread.
He never calls. He always writes.
Something must be wrong.
I answer with a tentative, “August?”
His voice comes through, shaky and almost crying. “Meelie, I-I’ve really messed up.”
“What’s happened?”
“I think… Abigail wants a divorce. She took the girls and left. I don’t know what to do. I feel so… lost. I fucked up big time,” he confesses, his voice breaking.
“What did you do? Did you cheat on her?” I ask, horror lacing my tone.
They were so in love.
“No, nothing like that. I just… fuck, Meelie, I need you.” He breaks out into sobs, and my blood freezes.
I’ve never heard my brother cry.
Stanleys don’t cry.
My heart clenches for him. “I’m here, Auggie. I just need to finish up a project at work, but that’s wrapping up in two weeks. I can put in for my vacation then and fly out to you. Can you hold on until then?”
“You would do that?” His voice is thick with gratitude and something like relief.
“Of course. I’ll come earlier if it’s somehow possible. And you can call me whenever you need to. Why didn’t you before?”
“I was ashamed,” he admits, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I let Father push me around too much. I think that’s a big reason why this is happening.”
Before I can respond, the door opens, and Hendricks steps back into the office, his presence slicing through our conversation. “I can’t talk right now. But can we talk some more later? I can call you tonight, 11 p.m., that should be your 7 a.m.”
“I can’t. I have to get to work early. But it’s fine, just come in two weeks, please? Just knowing you’ll come will help a lot.”
“There’s nothing that could keep me from it,” I assure him.
August has always been there for me. It’s time to return the favor, even if the thought of potentially encountering my parents through this visit twists my stomach into knots.
We say our goodbyes, and I hang up, my mind racing. There has to be a way to support him without the inevitable confrontation withthem.As I turn back to my computer, the screen’s glow doesn’t hold the answers I seek, but I know I’ll find a way.
For August, I’d navigate any storm—even if it means steering close to the rocks I’ve tried so hard to avoid.
The Rubik’scube in my hand is just sitting there, forgotten.
I’m lounging with Misha and Grey in our home office, watching Amelia through the monitors, which increasingly feels like a guilty pleasure, especially after what happened earlier today.
My lips had brushed her perfect skin, and I can’t seem to get her lavender scent out of my nostrils—not that I want to.
Misha and Grey have been ribbing me for hours after they saw how I kissed Amelia on the cheek through Elysium’s security feeds. They’re curious about everything we talked about, visibly irked that they couldn’t catch the conversation. I already suspected they were watching us in the cafeteria too.
It feels shitty to be watched like that, and the guilt of watching her now weighs more heavily on me. But not enough to curb my, or ratherourobsession.
“You’re such a gentleman, Ollie,” Misha teases, his voice dripping with mock admiration. “I don’t think I would have gone for the cheek.”
“You know I’ve never kissed anyone before,” I confess, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “I want our first kiss to be special, at the right moment, not in a hallway at Elysium.”
Funnily enough, her asking me out and our date somehow gave me the confidence to truly believe shewouldbe my first kiss. The question now is only when and where.
