Page 82 of Ashes of Us
Instead, he just stood up and picked up his cup. He pushed his chair in—a small thing, a nothing thing, but he'd never done that before. Never noticed those kinds of details.
"Take care of yourself, Piper."
My name in his mouth still did something to me. Some muscle memory I couldn't quite kill.
"You too."
He walked toward the door. His hand touched the door frame and I thought, for half a second, that he'd turn around. That he'd look back and try one more time.
He didn't.
The door closed behind him with a soft click. The bell chimed once, then silence.
I sat there with my cold latte, staring at the empty chair across from me. The indent in the cushion where he'd been sitting. His coffee cup was gone too. No trace of him left except the conversation still ringing in my ears.
We weren't friends. Weren't enemies.
We were something else entirely. Something I didn't have a word for. Two people who used to build a future together, now just trying to figure out how to exist in the same city without combusting.
The air between us felt clearer now. Not lighter. God, not lighter at all. Just... clearer. Like when a storm finally breaks and you can see the horizon again, even if everything's still soaked and ruined.
My phone buzzed with a text from Maya.
How'd it go?
I stared at the text, not knowing how to answer. He'd apologized, I'd listened. We'd both said true things and none of it had fixed anything.
But something had shifted.
Not healed. Not even close to healed.
Just... shifted.
It went.
I'll tell you later.
I picked up my cup. The coffee had gone completely cold, bitter on my tongue.
I drank it anyway.
CHAPTER 32: LIAM
Morrison's filing system was a disaster.
I'd been at this for three hours, shoulder aching despite the sling, trying to make sense of the previous captain's idea of organization. Receipts mixed with incident reports, training schedules shoved between vacation requests… It was mindless work, though, which was exactly what I needed. Anything to stop replaying Wednesday’s coffee shop conversation on a loop.
"That's all I can give you right now. That's it. That's all I have."
Three days later and her words still sat like stones in my chest. But what had I expected? That she'd forgive me? That one apology would undo everything? No, I knew that wouldn’t happen, and that hadn’t been what I’d been looking for.
I pulled open another drawer. More chaos. My shoulder protested and I shifted position, ignoring the pain. Physical therapy could wait. Sitting in my empty apartment with nothing but my thoughts was worse than any injury.
At least Piper had listened. At least she'd shown up, which was more than I deserved.
Take care of yourself, Piper.
Christ. The way she'd looked at me when I said her name. Like it hurt her to hear it.
