That shift.
That moment where everything started going wrong.
I didn’t lose it all at once.
I let it slip.
Piece by piece.
And I didn’t even realize it until it wasalready gone.
I remember the night Cody stopped circling it and finally said exactly what he meant.
The shop was closing, lights dimmed, that quiet settling in after a long day. I should’ve been done already wiping down my station, packing up, heading home.
But I wasn’t.
I was stalling.
Waiting.
I didn’t even try to hide it as well as I thought I was.
“You gonna lock up,” Cody said from across the room, “or you waiting on company?”
I didn’t answer right away. Kept my hands busy, wiping the same spot twice like it mattered. “I’m finishing up.”
“Yeah,” he muttered, pushing off the counter. “You been ‘finishing up’ for a while now.”
I exhaled through my nose, finally looking at him. “Just say it.”
He didn’t hesitate this time.
“It’s him.”
Izzy.
Of course it was.
I leaned back against my station, folding my arms like that would somehow steady me. “What about him?”
Cody walked closer, slower than usual—not unsure, just choosing his words carefully. That was new.
“I know who he is,” he said.
That made me pause.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means I’ve seen him before he ever stepped foot in here.” His eyes stayed on mine, steady. “Magazines. Ads. Industry circles. He’s not just some random guy that wandered in off the street.”
My stomach shifted slightly, but I didn’t let it show. “Okay… and?”
“And” Cody continued, his tone tightening just enough, “guys like that don’t just hang around places like this for no reason.”
I frowned. “He likes tattoos.”
Cody shook his head. “He likes attention.”
