Page 11 of When We Are Complete

But as our silent standoff stretches, I know we’re both thinking the same thing—we’re stuck out here, together, and there’s no escaping the past that’s clawing its way to the surface.

Chapter 6

Kelly

I pacethe length of the terrace as the sun finally dips behind the horizon, darkness settling around us, trying to ignore Jake’s silent gaze that follows me. Each step is filled with my racing thoughts.

Nine steps one way, nine steps back, repeating the rhythm in my head. A lifeline. Nine steps, turn. Nine steps, stop. I count them under my breath, hoping the numbers will drown out the storm inside me.

“Kelly,” he says, and I swear there’s a hint of concern in his voice, but I’m not about to fall for that—not again.

“Seriously, stop saying my name like that. Like you’re worried or something. We both know you don’t give a damn when it comes to me.”

“That’s not true.”

His tone is neutral, and it infuriates me even more. I’m about to shoot back, but then I catch myself—bickering with Jake Tanner isn’t going to unlock the damn door. I force anotherdeep breath, trying to will away the emotions that are creeping up on me. It’s just cold air and bad memories, nothing I haven’t handled before.

“Look,” I say, my voice steadier now, “let’s just put our heads together and figure a way out of here. No need for small talk or concern or whatever this is.” I gesture vaguely between us, still not meeting his eyes.

“Agreed,” he says simply.

There’s a moment where neither of us moves or speaks, where the only sound is the muffled beat of music seeping through the walls and the rhythmic pull of the ocean. And then, almost reluctantly, I finally look right at him. There’s something unnerving about how calm he appears, leaning against the bannister with his hands casually tucked in his pockets as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.

“Got any ideas on how we get off this balcony?”

“Working on it,” he echoes my earlier words, and it makes me want to scream or laugh—maybe both.

“Perfect,” I say under my breath. “Just perfect.” Silence settles over us once more, and the cold bites at my skin. “Can you at least pretend to look for a solution?” My voice comes out sharper than I intended. But I don’t apologize. Apologies are for people who have something left to salvage.

His jaw ticks at my words. “I’ve already sent another message to Antonio. He’s with Patrick right now, but I’m sure he’ll be up here soon.”

“Can’t you call him again?”

“Tried that while you were wearing holes in the balcony floor with your pacing. He didn’t pick up.”

“Fine,” I say, gritting my teeth. “I guess we just need to wait.”

I cross my arms against the cold and lean against the door as far away from him as possible, hugging myself tighter, trying tocontain the whirlwind of emotions threatening to burst out. I donotwant him to see the effect he’s had on me. No way.

“Kelly,” he says, and I swear his voice has the power to make the air both hotter and colder at the same time.

“Jake,” I reply, because that’s how we do it now—tit for tat, name for name, hurt for hurt.

He pushes off from his spot and moves toward me, slow but sure, as though he’s got all the answers, just like how he thought he’d fix all the problems in our lives by ending things without even talking to me about it. The band plays on below us.

The deep brown of his eyes is soft as he looks at me. “You’re freezing.”

“Am I?” It comes out as a challenge, even though the teeth-chattering might be giving me away. “Hadn’t noticed.”

But there he goes, shrugging out of his jacket, the movement fluid and familiar. I’m watching a scene from a life I used to know, one where Jake Tanner taking off his jacket meant something entirely different.

“Here,” he says, holding it out, a peace offering.

My skin might be begging for warmth, and I might have seriously considered taking it for a moment, but that would be a victory.For him.“Keep it. I’m fine.”

His eyes hold mine, dark and expansive, and for a moment, I’m seventeen again, believing in things likeforeverand the beautiful love I shared with him. Then I blink, and the illusion is gone.

“Suit yourself,” he says. “It’s here if you want it.” He walks back to his spot on the other side of the balcony and lays the jacket across the bannister, where it sits, taunting me. It’s not just the gesture—the suggestion that somehow I need him to doanythingfor me—it’s the thought of slipping into something that’shis. The idea of his scent and body heat clinging to memakes my skin crawl, a weird sensory and emotional overload I can’t explain.

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