“You kissed someone on your team before Kael. You’ve obsessed about your finances forever. You’re resigned to a job you hate.” She tilts her head. “Did youreallylisten to that recording?”
“Yeah,” I say, picking at the label on my beer bottle. “It’s not some smoking gun though.”
“Maybe not. But I didn’t know Alistair was like that.” She shivers. “It’s… disturbing.”
“He’s a creep. Can’t believe he stayed with him as long as he did.”
Jenny shakes her head. “Youwork for that guy, Ash.”
“Luckily,” I say, and even to my own ears it sounds pathetic. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Last time I’ll say it,” Jenny replies, meeting my gaze. “Because if you ignore me again, I’m officially out of advice and you can self-destruct in peace.” She lets that hang for a few seconds. “Call Kael.”
She smacks me lightly on the side of the head.
The thought of calling Kael turns my stomach.
But I can’t stop replaying the last time he kissed me. His hoodie’s still in my closet, untouched. Yesterday I opened the door just to breathe it in and remember the way he saidI love you. Even if it was the worst possible time to hear it, he said it with so much hope. It still smelled like oil paint, canvas, and the back of his neck after sleep. One breath was enough to make me miss him beside me.
I owe him more than silence.
CHAPTER 33
KAEL
When Ash calls,my heart splits in two.
One half remembers that I love him. It rushes to answer, to hear his voice, and to say whatever it would take to win him back. I’d change for him, let love swallow everything else, because it feels close enough. That half is terrifyingly strong and completely irrational.
The other half is stubborn. It wants to mute the call and pretend I wouldn’t spend the rest of my life wondering. It’s San Francisco fog, rolling in with the reminder that this man is not what I need. It’s practical, logical, and probably right… for the Kael I was before.
Split down the middle, I swipe to answer by habit. I stare at his photo while the call timer counts up.
“Kael?” His voice breaks the trance. “Kael, are you there?”
“Ash. Hey. Sorry. I’m here.”
An empty apartment is the worst place for a call like this, but it’s all I’ve got. Rent I can’t afford is due soon. My whole life is in half-taped boxes and drifts of Bubble Wrap. I’ve spent the day “moving,” which is mostly code for stewing over how unprepared I am for whatever comes next.
In two days, I’ll be halfway to Kansas.
“Is this a good time?” he asks.
No. It’s a horrible time. I’m standing in a cardboard graveyard, drowning in kitchenware. But what comes out is, “Yeah, I’m, uh, in the studio.” I pick up a loose spatula from the box I finished packing right before he called.
Ash is quiet, like he hadn’t expected me to answer.
“Are you… okay?” I ask first to dodge the same question.
“Still have my job,” he says.
“Guess I overreacted.” It stings to think he may have called to deliver an update on his employment status.
“No. I mean, you didn’t.” He exhales. “You told me Alistair was a creep. I never imagined… I’m glad you’re out. How’s the studio?”
I twirl the spatula, thinking about how many meals I didn’t cook with it. Free rent meant I could survive on takeout, microwave dinners, and Jamal’s leftovers. In Kansas, I’m going to have to actually learn what to do with this thing.
Ash doesn’t know I’m moving. Once I let myself see the obvious fact that staying in the most expensive city in the country with no patron, no Gram, and no boyfriend made zero sense, the decision came fast. But saying it out loud would make me exactly what he thinks I am: an impulsive, irresponsible, Jenga tower finally collapsing.
