The air in the office feels heavier as I keep talking. “I checked my inbox every night for weeks after that, waiting for an explanation that never came. Finally, a month later, I wrote one last message just to end it. Told her goodbye. Told her I was done.”
I look down at the letter again, thumb running along the fold. “Guess part of me never was.”
Dr. Iris’s voice comes softly, carefully. “You said it didn’t hurt as much now?”
I exhale through my nose. “No, it doesn’t, but I get why she can’t see me.”
Dr. Iris doesn’t say anything right away. She just watches me.
“Why is that, Nathan?”
The question lands heavy.
I feel it—something in me pulling back. Closing.
I look away.
There’s an answer. But I’m not ready. Not for her. Not for anyone. Maybe not ever.
“Thank you for everything,” I say, already standing.
She studies me for a moment, then nods. “My door is always open, Nathan.”
I tuck the letter back into the journal and force a small smile.
And I leave.
Chapter 29
Nathan
The hallway outside my penthouse is quiet enough that I can hear my own shoes whisper across the glossy tile.
Key in hand—two more steps.
Then—movement.
A soft clink. A low scrape.
Inside my place.
Every nerve snaps to attention.
I flatten my palm against the door and listen. Another clink. Glass? Someone’s in there. The old reflex wakes up in my bones—cold, automatic. I curl my fingers around the handle, turn it slowly, count to three, and swing in, ready to end something.
“Whoa—whoa!” Bishop shoots upright from my couch, both hands up, a bottle of whiskey tipping dangerously in one. “Easy, John Wick!”
My knuckles unclench a fraction. “You almost got punched in the throat,” I say.
Bishop grins like a kid caught with frosting on his face. “You forgot I had a spare key?”
“Guess so.” I close the door behind me, pulse easing.
We stare at each other for a beat, dead serious. Then crack at the same time. I shake my head and step into him. It’s aquick hug—shoulder grip, back slap. The kind that saysI’m herewithout saying anything else.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I miss my brother.” He lifts the bottle like a trophy. “I figured it’s been too long since we both had a night. You, me, and subpar decisions.”
