Page 17 of Last Chorus

Head tilting, he cups a hand behind his ear. “What was that?”

My teeth clench. “Get. Out.”

He stretches his legs, crossing them at the ankle, and folds his arms over his chest. “Nah, I’m good here.” He smiles slightly. “How’s life these days?”

I can’t speak.

Can’t think.

Air rasps in and out of my lungs. My arms tremble uncontrollably.

“Did you know Emma is cutting molars?” he continues, eyebrows arched inquisitively like I’m not having a fucking aneurism five feet away. “She’s the coolest. I still can’t believe she calls me Why-Why. Such a trip.”

My breath stills. “She does?”

“Yeah.” His eyes turn so soft and warm, I have to look away. “Gotta say, though, I kind of miss her calling me Poop.”

A strangled sound leaves me. “Poop?”

He hums in confirmation. “No idea how that one started.” I arch a brow and he chuckles. “Fine, there was an incident. I might have had an adverse reaction thatEmma thought was hilarious. In my defense, it was my first experience with explosive baby diarrhea.”

I grimace. “Gross.”

“The grossest. But at least she decided on calling me Poop instead of picking one of the other words I used in the moment. Lily would have freaked if she started calling me Fuck.”

I bite my cheek. “She’s definitely militant about the no-profanity rule.”

At the thought of Lily, my flash of humor dies. My relationship with her, Rye, and Emma has changed over the last year, most drastically in the last six months. I want so badly to fix what’s broken, but I don’t know how. Not without making a sacrifice I’m not sure I’ll survive.

Wilder’s stare is heavy and probing. I look down to hide my expression, but it’s too late.

“You don’t belong here. This city is a vampire sucking you dry. Come home.”

Anger roars through me, the welcome firestorm burning away my melancholy. “You have no idea where I belong. You think you have the right to say that? Why? Because I followed you around as a kid or because we fucked for a few weeks a million years ago? Get over yourself, Wilder. You’re a footnote in my life.”

His jaw hardens, arms falling to his sides as he sits up and leans forward. For a moment, I think he’s goingto spew equal vitriol back at me. Iwanthim to—want him to say something as awful as what just came out of my mouth so I don’t have to acknowledge the stinging precursor of guilt. So I can hate him again, if only for a moment.

What he says instead, in a dangerously soft voice, is worse.

“Lie to yourself all you want. I’llalwaysknow you. You’re inside me forever, just like I’m inside you. And you belong where you always have, with your feet in the dirt between water and giant trees, moonlight shining in your hair.”

The absurd words shatter like glass inside me. Tiny, bleeding wounds open all over my heart.

My belated scoff sounds alarmingly close to a sob. “I don’t know what your angle is, but let’s get one thing straight—you’re deluded if you think I’ll ever fall into your bed again.”

He laughs.

The motherfuckerlaughs.

Then he stands up, stretching his arms over his head and bending from side to side like we’re in a goddamn yoga class. The hem of his T-shirt rides up, exposing a few inches of skin above his belt. I tear my eyes away, but not fast enough to prevent the sight from burning itself into my brain. Two sharp, shadowed valleys ofmuscle arrowing toward his groin. Tattoos I’ve never seen before. That trail of coarse, dark hair I wish I didn’t remember the feel of grazing my belly.

When he stops flaunting his stupid, ripped body, I shift my glare back to his face. He wears a knowing smirk that makes me want to kick him in the nuts.

“You thought I was flirting with you?”Tsking, he shakes his head, eyes bright with laughter like the joke’s on me. “You’ve never even seen me flirt. In any case, I think we can agree that ship has sailed.”

My jaw drops.

His devilish grin widens. “It was good chatting with you. Happy New Year.” He opens the door, then glances back at me. “See you around, Evangeline.”

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