Page 96 of For the Plot
But Iamthe one who set fire to this. I’m the one who opened the door and invited the fallout inside. So now I have to pick a side. And the thought alone splits me in two.
I stand up slowly and walk to the window. The city glows below me. The skyline stretches for miles, endless and cold, like it knows exactly what I’ve done. I pull out my phone. Her contact is already open.
I stare at it for a long time. I think about texting her something meaningful. Something apologetic. Something that will explain why I stood there and said nothing while she pulled her coat shut with shaking hands. But I don’t know how toexplain the kind of fear that chokes you silent. The kind that makes you watch someone you care about fall apart and still not move a muscle.
So I send her the only thing I know how to say right now.
Me:You don’t have to finish out the contract. I’ll pay you through the end.
I watch the message send. Delivered. No read receipt. No typing bubbles. No reply. I set the phone down, chest hollow. That was it. That was the moment. And I let it slip through my hands. Skye is gone. Archer is gone. And I did it to both of them.
I sink back onto the couch, elbows on my knees, and press my fingertips to my temples.
I’ve built a billion-dollar empire. Closed billion-dollar deals. Recovered from loss and grief and failure. But nothing has ever leveled me like this. And I don’t know if I can ever fix it.
Chapter 21
Skye
Ilock the bathroom door behind me and turn on the water. Hot. Scalding. As hot as it’ll go.
Steam curls against the mirrors before I even finish stripping off my clothes. I don’t care. I just step in, like maybe the water will wash everything away if I let it burn long enough.
My back hits the tile. The water slaps against my face. My chest. My knees. The silence of the apartment disappears under the spray, and it’s just me, the water, and the ache I’ve been trying to outrun since last night.
He let me leave. He just stood there.
I dig my fingers into my scalp, my hair already soaked, mascara bleeding down my cheeks in ugly streaks. I slide down the wall, my knees buckling, and land hard on the porcelain. My ribs hurt. My eyes hurt. Everything hurts.
It replays in my head like a cruel loop. Reece’s voice, cold and controlled.“It’s best if you go.”
And Archer. His face twisted in horror. I curl into myself and sob, soundless and raw. I can’t remember the last time I cried like this. Maybe when my dad left. Maybe when Archer broke up with me. Maybe never.
The bathroom door rattles behind me. Maya’s voice is muffled through the steam. “Skye? Are you okay?”
I press my lips together. I can’t speak. I don’t trust what will come out. I don’t want her pity. Or comfort. Or reminders that I’m strong and brave and resilient. Because I’m not. I’m stupid. Pathetic. A walking, talking punch line to the world’s cruelest joke and I keep making the wrong fucking decisions over and over again.
“I thought he’d stop me,” I whisper, more to the water than to her. “I thought he’d fight.”
I tip my head back, eyes squeezed shut, the water pouring down over my face until I can’t tell what’s tears and what’s not. Somewhere in the noise, I remember the way his hands felt on my hips. The way he looked at me when he pushed inside. Like I was the only thing keeping him tethered to this planet.
It makes me nauseous. It makes me wet.
I hate myself for it. Hate that my body doesn’t know the difference between love and loss, want and ruin. My nipples tighten under the water, my thighs clench, and I scream. Just once. A ragged, throat-tearing sound that gets swallowed by the roar of the shower. I slap the tile. Once. Twice. Like maybe pain will shake something loose. Like maybe if I bruise, I’ll heal faster.
I told myself I was playing the game. Flirting. Tempting. But somewhere along the way, I started hoping. Started dreaming. And now I’m drowning in it.
I curl my arms around my knees, forehead pressed to my thighs. My breath hiccups through sobs as water splashes in uneven rhythms around me. The only thing louder is my heartbeat. And the echo of his voice telling me to leave.
I stay like that until my skin turns red. Until my fingers wrinkle. Until the water runs cold. Only then do I crawl outand collapse onto the bathmat, shaking and silent, water pooling beneath me like blood from a wound I don’t know how to stop.
It’s close to midnight when I finally crawl into bed.
Notmybed, I can’t bear that yet. Just the left side of Maya’s, the one she cleared for me without asking. She’s already asleep, breathing softly, her back to me, the gentle rise and fall of her shoulders steady as a heartbeat. I want to reach for her. I want to say thank you. But I can’t even speak.
I lie on my side, phone in hand, thumb hovering over the screen like it’s a detonator. I haven’t opened the text between us since he sent me one singular message after I left.
Reece:You don’t have to finish out the contract. I’ll pay you through the end.
