Page 89 of Holy Hearts
I rake a hand down my face. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It’s not,” Orion admits, shrugging. “But it’s worth it. You’re not going to figure any of this out by avoiding it. Talk to him.Be honest. If nothing else, at least you’ll finally know where you stand.”
“Right. I’ll pour my heart out, and maybe we can settle things with a round of polo afterward,” I retort sarcastically.
“Whatever it takes,” Orion answers, and I don’t expect his words toweighso much.
I sit in silence as I let his words settle. He’s right, damn him. I can’t keep running from this, not if I want to move forward—with Kai, with Sophie, or even just with myself.
Orion claps me on the shoulder, his tone turning lighter. “Look at it this way: worst case, he walks away again. At least you’ll know you’ve got a strong track record for surviving it.”
I let out a reluctant laugh, shaking my head. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, mate.”
“Anytime,” Orion says with a smirk, standing to leave. “Good luck, Julian. You’re going to need it.”
As he walks off, I pull out my phone, thumb hovering over Kai’s contact.
Type.
Erase.
Type.
Jesus Christ, how hard is it to send a simple text?
I lean my elbows on the bar, rubbing the back of my neck as if the motion alone will knock the indecision loose. The cursor blinks at me like it’s mocking my hesitation.
Hey, want to grab a drink sometime?
Backspace.
Hope you’re doing well. We should catch up.
Delete.
I stare at the empty message field, feeling like a teenager asking someone on a date.
Why the hell does this feel harder than it needs to be? This isn’t the first time I’ve dealt with messy feelings or unspoken tension. Hell, my marriage is built on unconventional boundaries. And yet, Kai… Kai’s different. He always has been. There’s no script for this, no clean way to approach the man who kissed me once and left me wondering for seventeen years if I imagined the way he held on just a little too long.
I tap the screen again, exhaling sharply.
We need to talk.
There. No overthinking. No unnecessary weight behind the words. Direct. Unavoidable.
Before I can convince myself otherwise, I hit send and toss the phone onto the bar like it’s radioactive.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE SWITCH
Malakai
I stare at the email for several minutes, trembling with barely contained fury.
Despite having a couple of conversations with Chase, my brother, it appears that Rod fucking Dumplant went behind my back and contacted Bradleigh Evan’s mother, Victoria, copying me in.
The subject line is insulting enough.“Concerns Regarding Bradleigh Evans”—as if her mere existence is simply a logistical issue to be dealt with and forgotten.
