Page 109 of Composed
Ijerkupwardswhenthe door swings open.
My neck cracks, my spine aching as I stretch the kinks from my back.
Saint strolls into the flat, a take-out mug in hand, plastic brown bag in the other. He scans over me, my finger-combed hair, my make-up-less face, the clothes I haven’t changed out of in days.
He puffs a short breath. “Shit, Rix. Have you even slept?”
I massage my throbbing temples and take in the mess I’ve made in the living room.
Paper covers every surface. A leaning tower of cardboard boxes on the far wall, a smaller pile at the side of it. More mugs, with days old coffee and tea stains adorning every inch of the black oval coffee table.
It’s been three days since I’ve seen or spoken to Cole.
I texted him after he stormed out, but our thread has only stayed silent since. Not even the flicker of a read receipt to show he’s seen it.
Silence is something I’ve grown used to over the years, but it’s really starting to grate on me now.
So, instead of wallowing, I got to work.
“Does a ten-minute catnap at two am count?” I ask Saint with a grimace.
“It doesn’t count,” he says, handing me the coffee.
I pop the lid off and inhale.
“Thank you for this.” I push my sleeve up past my watch, my nose wrinkling as I spot the early hour. I peer up at him. “Do you reckon you can round up Ax and Cart and get them into the studio this morning?”
“What I reckon is that you need some decent sleep, and then we’ll talk about maybe getting in the booth.” His eyes are hard, his lips straight, as if daring me to argue with him.
Pretty sure he’s forgotten who he’s talking to.
“I can sleep when I’m dead.” I smirk. “What Ineedis for you guys to get your arses in the studio,” I toss a black folder onto the couch next to him, “and record this for me.”
“I didn’t think you and Cole finished anything yet?”
“We haven’t.”
He hikes a brow, but says nothing as he props the folder on his lap and flicks through it.
I twist my fingers in my lap.
A muscle in his cheek tics, and he peers at me through hooded lashes.
I hold my breath.
His eyes dart between the notebook, the boxes, before finally landing on me. “Rix, what are you doing?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago.”
I push onto my knees, shuffle across the floor, and tug down one of the cardboard boxes. I peel the lid before emptying the contents onto the floor.
Knots form all through my body as Saint shuffles closer.
“This is…” He brushes a thumb over his chin. “A lot.”
I shake my head, a tired laugh bubbling in my throat. “It’severything.”
Everything I held onto in the hopes one day Cole would come banging down my door to ask for it all back.
