The plan is simple. I’ll grab a hot chocolate and walk around for a bit. Kill enough time until it’s safe to return to the penthouse without risking further mental scarring.
For now, I lean my head against the cool metal wall and let the steady descent of the elevator rock me as a quiet hum fills the space. In a penthouse on the top floor, my brother is living his best life by taking care of the woman who changed everything for him.
And a few miles away, there’s a little girl asleep in her bed, clutching her favorite doll, dreaming up fairy tales where everything works out. Stories with happy endings and no complicated middle. Where fear or hard choices don’t exist.
I close my eyes and breathe through the ache that presses behind my ribs.
Wouldn’t it be nice if life were that easy?
As the elevator keeps moving, I remind myself that even fairy tales have chapters no one talks about—the quiet ones, the lonely ones, the parts where you have to keep going without knowing how the story ends.
For now, that will have to be enough.
10
Laiken
Under normal circumstances, once Elody is down for the count, I try to unwind. I’ll clean up the kitchen. Maybe watch some game footage. Whatever it takes to make my brain shut off for a while.
But tonight, the stillness gnaws at me.
I stand at the sink, staring at the pot Kia used, the cutting board that still smells faintly like garlic and herbs. The place hasn’t smelled like real food in… I can’t remember. Katie always cooked, but it never lingered in the air the way this does.
I dry my hands as my gaze drifts to the phone on the counter. It’s tempting to text and make sure she got home safely. Not only did she leave late, but she was alone. Chicago is like any other big city. It’s safe if you take the proper precautions.
I mean, don’t I have a responsibility to make sure she arrived at Oliver’s safely?
It would be shitty on my part if I didn’t check in. Not only is Oliver a teammate, but he’s a friend. His sister is doing me a solid by helping out.
Right.
I pounce on the phone and quickly type out a message. My thumb hesitates over the screen far longer than necessary.
Me:
Did you get home all right?
I hit send before I can overthink it, then set the phone down and walk away. Two seconds later, I’m back, staring at the dark screen, as if that’ll make it light up with a response.
It doesn’t.
Annoyed with myself, I pace the length of the living room. The hardwood creaks in a familiar way beneath my socks.
Still nothing.
Should I call?
What if something happened?
It’s been at least thirty minutes since she left. Just as I consider calling, the phone buzzes. My pulse kicks hard enough that it becomes necessary to steady my grip before looking at it.
Kia:
Actually… no.
With a frown, I stare at the message.
Me:
