That lands harder than I expect.
“Yeah,” I say.
Her mouth tightens, like there’s more sitting behind her teeth. She doesn’t give it to me.
“Good night,” she says.
“Good night, Nova.”
She gets out and I watch her walk inside.
The door closes.
I sit there for a while with the feel of her back still in my palm and the thing she didn’t say hanging heavy in the car.
Then I drive home.
***
I’m loosening my tie before I’m through the door.
Jacket on the chair.
Done with all of it.
I pour a drink and sit on the couch. Brick climbs onto my chest like he’s been waiting.
“Rough night,” I tell him.
He blinks once.
“She looked—” I stop. “Doesn’t matter.”
It matters.
My phone buzzes.
Nova:
Thank you for tonight.
I stare at it.
Still there.
I don’t answer.
Another buzz.
Aurora:
Had coffee with your journalist today. She asked about you.
I lean my head back.
Brick settles heavier on my chest.
I read it twice.
