Page 59 of Fault Line

“Hey,” I say, holding up the bag of goodies. “I come bearing gifts.”

“You really didn’t have to do all of this,” she says, her voice softening. “I came home like you said, and I’m already feeling a little better.”

“It’s no biggie,” I reassure her, handing over the bag. “Just some soup and crackers. Pedialyte to keep you hydrated.”

She raises a skeptical brow, eyeing what’s left in my other hand. “And for some reason, you also brought me an orchid?”

I give her a wide, cheesy grin. “I hear flowers always make girls feel better.”

“So, you got me a potted plant.”

“Well, I was gonna get you a bouquet of roses,” I say with a smirk. “You know, thorns, since you’re so damn prickly. But I figured this lasts longer. Besides, I already know you love the color purple.”

“And how would you know that?” she asks, surprise coating her tone.

“You used to rock a big purple clip in your hair.”

“Freshman year?” she asks, incredulous.

I scratch the back of my neck. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I haven’t worn my hair up in a claw clip for over two years.” She scrunches her nose, sniffling again. “Not since I chopped it all off.”

I step forward, taking a strand of her soft, dark hair between my fingers. “I liked that length on you. But this look suits you even better.”

She shakes me off, giving me a long, contemplative look before she steps aside. “Look, I know I’m sick, but did you want to come in for a minute?”

I give her a playful grin. “Well, that depends.”

“Oh, yeah?” she asks, lifting a brow.

“If I come in, you have to promise me there will be no shenanigans.”

“What?” she asks, her eyes widening. “You think I’m gonna try to seduce you in this state?”

A warm chuckle escapes me, but I simply raise my own brow in return, waiting for a real answer.

“Fine, I promise not to try and jump your bones,” she finally grumbles. Then she plucks the orchid out of my hand, barely concealing a smile, before leading me into her apartment.

21

KAIA

No one’sever given me flowers before. Or, I should say—a singular flower.

It’s cute, I guess.

And there’s a perfect spot for it on the windowsill in my bedroom. It’s silly, honestly, that a tiny gesture like this would leave me so fucking giddy inside. It doesn’t even mean anything. Holden probably spotted it in the checkout line and then added it to his cart as an afterthought.

Even still, it’s nice. Sweet. A thoughtful little get-well-soon gift. And he’s right—orchids do last forever, sometimes even up to fifteen years if they’re cared for properly. God knows I’ll struggle to keep this little guy alive.

But I’m gonna try my best.

As Holden stands in the entryway of my apartment, a wave of uncertainty washes over me. This isn’t like me, inviting him inside. It goes against everything I’ve been trying to maintain between us.

But when I saw the look on his face earlier—the concern etched into his features—and the tiny purple plant in his hand, I couldn’t help but give in.

Now, I awkwardly stand in front of him, cradling the orchid in my hands as he raises a questioning brow.

---