Page 30 of Fault Line

“No, my life’s incredibly boring right now. You?”

“Well, it’s not really gossip per se, but I think my sister’s about to propose to her partner.”

“Taylor?”

“Yeah, they’ve been together a while now. The only problem is they’re allergic to Tay’s dog.”

“Oh, no. That’s not good.”

“I know.” He heaves a weighted sigh. “It fucking sucks because Bentley’s on his last legs of life right now. And she doesn’t want to lock him up to keep him away from the main living areas. Luc was gonna take him, but they have a lot on their plates already with both Juney and work,” he explains, referring to his two-year-old niece. “I don’t know, I was thinking of offering up my apartment.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I just—I don’t know.” He hesitates for a moment, and I can sense his self-doubt creeping in. “I feel like some days I can barely keep myself alive. But what do you think?”

“I think you can handle a lot more than you give yourself credit for.”

“So, you think I should do it, then? Let Bentley move in?”

“Honestly, I think you’d make a great dog dad.”

“Yeah?” He sounds pleased, and I can’t help but smile at his reaction.

“Definitely.”

“Okay, then yeah,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna go for it. I’ll text Taylor in the morning.”

“What a good brother you are.”

He gulps low in his throat. “Well, I’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“You’ve already served your penance, E,” I say, hoping to ease a sliver of his guilt. He’s still trying to make up for past mistakes—ones he made years ago. It’s time he finally lets himself move on because I know the rest of his family has. “Stop punishing yourself.”

“No, I know. It’s all good.” He changes the topic, deflecting from his own issues. “What else did you want to talk about? I could tell you about the scene I filmed earlier where—”

“Oh God, please don’t make me vomit when I’m already feeling like shit,” I hastily interrupt, my stomach turning at the mere thought of hearing about his hookups, regardless of whether or not they’re work-related. The last thing I need right now is to be reminded of the physical intimacy that I’m severely lacking.

“I was joking, Kaia,” he says with a laugh. “Live a little.”

I let out a small sigh of relief. I know Elio well enough to know he’s not the type to spill all the nitty-gritty details, but lately, my anxiety’s been through the roof.

“Yeah, well, my joke radar’s kind of going haywire these days,” I admit, pushing through the embarrassment. “I feel like I’ve been taking everything to heart.”

“Well, when you’re running on five hours of sleep for an entire week, you’re bound to be cranky,” he points out. “Don’t be so fucking hard on yourself.”

I appreciate his kind words and his ability to always see the best in me, even when I can’t see it myself. When I’m down, he picks me up. And when he’s down—which unfortunately happens quite often—I try my best to return the favor. It’s one of the reasons we’ve stayed so close all these years.

“I know,” I quietly murmur, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. “I’m trying not to be.”

“Good.”

I pause, breathe deep, then, “Hey, El?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for picking up,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper now.

“Welcome,” he says gruffly.

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