I brace for it, the joke, the deflection, the wow, look who finally needs something. It doesn’t come.
“Anything you need,” he says immediately.
It knocks the air out of me.
“Could you… Come to my place?” I glance around the empty apartment, as if it might judge me. “Ten minutes. And can you grab Zane on the way? I’ll text him.”
“Yeah,” Julian says. No hesitation. “Sounds good.”
The line clicks dead.
No jokes.
No commentary.
Just yes.
I stand there for a moment, phone still in my hand, chest tight. Julian is the kind of man who makes jokes when things are uncomfortable. The fact that he didn’t means he understands how bad this is.
Zane texts back two minutes later.
ZANE: On my way. Don’t do anything stupid without us.
Too late, buddy. I think to myself.
They show up exactly twelve minutes later.
Julian lets himself in like he always does, tossing his keys onto the marble counter, eyes already scanning me. Zane follows, quieter, carrying a camera bag slung over one shoulder out of pure muscle memory. He takes one look at my face and stops short.
“Oh,” Zane says softly. “It’s that bad.”
Julian doesn’t say anything at first. He steps closer, studying me like he’s trying to decide whether I’m going to break or explode.
“You look like hell,” he says finally. Not unkind. Just factual.
“Feel worse,” I say.
Zane sets the bag down carefully. “Ok. What’s the plan?”
That’s the thing. I don’t have one. Not a clean one.
“I fucked up,” I say. The words come out blunt, stripped of polish. “I hurt someone. Publicly. And privately. And I need to own it before someone else controls the story.”
Julian exhales through his nose. “Tess.”
I nod.
Zane winces. “Damn.”
“I’m ending the deal,” I say. “Publicly. Burning the LOI. No spin. No PR. No framing. I want to go live on the Mavericks channel.”
Julian’s jaw tightens. “Rex is going to lose his mind.”
“Already did.”
“And this fixes it?” Zane asks, not challenging, just checking.
“No,” I say. “But it stops me from making it worse.”
