Page 53 of Taming Tesla

Shit. No. Not ours. Not his and not mine. Not anymore.

Knowing that would’ve choked me where I stood if not for the fact that the staircase is gone. It’s gone. In its place is a wall that looks like it’s always been there. I stand stock still for a moment, staring at it before Conner calls out to me from across the bar. “This way, Legs,” he calls over his shoulder, and I catch sight of him, walking down the hall to the office.

Feeling like Alice, chasing the white rabbit, I hustle after him, passing by Patrick’s Uncle Paddy, polishing glasses behind the bar. “I expect a proper kiss and hug after you’re settled,” he calls out, and I toss him a grin over my shoulder.

“I’ll trade you for a bacon burger,” I say, earning myself a belly chuckle. At least someone is happy to see me. I turn, just in time to see Con walk into the office. Hurrying after him, I step through the doorway to find him, waiting for me in front of a polished mahogany door where a liquor-stocked shelf used to be.

I feel like Alice, now more than ever. “What’s this?”

“This,” Con says, setting my suitcase down in front of him. “Is the physical manifestation of eleven months’ worth of heartache and frustration.” He gives his chin a hard jerk at the door. “You need help up?”

“No,” I tell him, cheeks flushed. “I can manage just fine on my own.”

“Suit yourself,” he says, green eyes hard and narrowed slightly, stepping away from the door to give me room to unlock it.

“So much for family,” I mutter under my breath, fitting the brand-new key on my old ratty keychain into a shiny new lock.

“Oh, you’re family, Legs,” Con says, hands jammed into the pockets of his jacket, watching me struggle with my suitcase. “If you weren’t, I would’ve re-routed your plane to Siberia.

“Siberia?” I have no doubt he could do exactly as threatened, but I’m too angry to care. “How original.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Don’t mock Siberia—it’s a classic for a reason.”

“Oh, in that case—” I push the door open and lug my suitcase across the threshold. “Do svidaniya, asshole,” I say before slamming the door in his face.

“Cap’n not the only one you hurt by leaving, you know,” he shouts at me through the door. “Call Tess.” It roots me in place. The anger and hurt in his voice. I open the door, suddenly ready to apologize. No more excuses. No more reason. Just I’m sorry.

But there’s no one to apologize to. Conner is gone, and I’m all alone.

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