Page 42 of Wells

He asked for the real me. I gave him the roof, the cars, the childhood I never tell anyone, and finally my unarmored body. And now he is pulling back.

Of course he is.

The moment the performance ends, and the real me shows up, people leave. Cas did it. Midnight is doing it now. The only difference is that Midnight didn't wait for me to become a burden first. He just saw what was underneath and decided it was not worth staying for.

I close the laptop and sit in the dark. The guilt I carried all weekend curdles into something worse. I betrayed him with Wells, and now he doesn't want me anyway.

Monday morning, I walk into the Rotterdam meeting with my notes organized and my face arranged into something professional. Ridge sits at the head of the table, his presence pulling the room tighter without saying a word. The partner from Rotterdam, a man named Dekker, sits across from me with his tablet out and his expectations already written on his face.

Wells is three chairs down. I don't look at him.

Ridge opens the meeting. His voice is precise, leaving no room for uncertainty.

They flip through the website Wells, which I created a few nights ago, but I don't pay attention. They all talk, occasionally ask me questions, and I answer on autopilot.

Dekker asks a question, and I don't catch that it's aimed at me until I notice everyone looking my way. I have no idea what he asked, but I don't want to out myself as not paying a lick of attention to whatever was going on around me.

I keep my face neutral and nod.

"Cera can handle the front end," Wells says, sensing my distress. His voice is flat and professional, giving nothing away. "I will feed her the data layers as they clear security review."

Ridge looks at me. "Can you rebuild it in two weeks?"

"Yes, of course." I have no idea what I'm agreeing to, but I'm sure I can do anything in two weeks.

The meeting moves on. They talk about containers, delivery schedules, and security protocols. I take notes now, making sure not to get caught in another world again.

My body is too aware of Wells three chairs away. I can feel him in the room without looking. The air between us hums with everything we aren't acknowledging. Soon we will be alone in an office, and I wonder how that will go, whether we can both pretend nothing ever happened.

When the meeting ends, Dekker leaves first. Ridge stands and gathers his tablet, his presence already shifting toward the next thing. The other attendees file out. I stay in my seat and pretend to review my notes.

Wells stays put, too. The door clicks shut. The room goes quiet. I look up to see him looking at me.

He's not watching me like he did Friday. This is something else. His mouth is set hard, and his eyes hold mine a beat too long before he speaks.

"They love what you put together on Friday. I still don't know how you pulled it off that fast. Thank you."

Any boss could have said those words. The trouble is in how he says them, low and not quite steady. It's the most human he has ever let me see him be.

My chest tightens. The smart move is to thank him for the kind words and go. Keep it clean, keep it professional, do not let it become more than it already is.

I stay in my seat anyway and bring my eyes up to meet his.

"Thank you."

He nods once. I stand first, which I guess is becoming my thing with him. I gather my notes and walk toward the door.

I leave the room with Midnight's cold silence still lodged under my ribs and the truth I cannot survive knowing breathing right beside me, hidden in the man I just decided to want anyway.

TWELVE

Wells

The Skull and Bone Gang: Before dawn on Mardi Gras, masked skeleton men walk the streets to wake the living and remind them death is near. They move through the dark looking for those who owe a reckoning, and they always know which door to knock on.

The screen goes live. She appears in her mask and platinum hair, her shoulders bare under the camera's frame.

"Hey, Midnight. I was starting to wonder if I lost you somewhere along the way."