“I worked hard to walk away from that mess.”
“The mess followed you. And my diagnosis is confirmed.”
I narrow my eyes at her.
She taps the counter once, thoughtful. “Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing—for your own peace of mind—to see what happened to it after you left.”
The words settle uncomfortably. Not wrong. I slide Mr. Matthews’s chart into its rack, the plastic snapping into place, clean and decisive. “He needs a PT referral and a follow-up MRI in six weeks.”
Ellie watches me a second longer, then nods, letting me have the last word—for now. “I’ll take care of it.”
My words echo in my mind, reminding me what’s important is that people show you if they’ve learned from their mistakes. Maybe if I see what happened with the mess I left behind, we could both finally move on, or at least I could feel better about the ground I’m standing on.
By the timeI step into the compound’s courtyard, it’s just after eight. Solar lights tucked into the grass throw soft halos over wet concrete. After dinner with Ellie and Serena, I feel like my every choice has been dissected, and it’s pointless to waver—they’ll read more into it if I bail. So, with the bookstore bag heavy on my fingers, I buzz his apartment. A pause. Static.
“Robyn?”
“Hey,” I say, shifting my weight. Then it registers.How did he know?“Were you looking again?”
He chuckles. “Wanna come up or for me to meet you down there?”
I psych myself up to make this quick. “I just need five minutes. Open the door?”
The click is immediate.
I skip the elevator, taking the stairs two at a time to the second floor. At the landing, Nate’s already there. He leans against the wooden doorframe identical to mine, barefoot, one sleeve of his T-shirt pushed up like he was mid-task and just… paused. His hair’s grown longer, half tied in a tiny messy bun that lets stubborn too-short tendrils fall framing his face. The yellow light catches the auburn shine, and for a moment, he almost looks like a redhead.
“Hi,” he murmurs.
“Hi.” I step forward before I can think too much about it, holding out the book like a peace offering. “We finishedTell-tale Brainlast week. It’s time for something more your speed.”
I reach into the bookstore bag and pull out one of the copies I bought ofHow Buildings Learn. He takes it, turning it over in his hands. His breath stutters, throat working, and his shoulders draw in before he catches himself.
“This is… perfect,” he says, voice measured, but it trembles enough to betray him. His shoulders sag a fraction, eyes rimmed red, blinking once. Twice. “Robyn—” His hand twitches near the spine of the book.
I shift before he can finish, steering us away from whatever that sentence might have become. “I wanted to talk to you about your mom’s party.”
His shoulders settle though his eyes stay intent.
“I’d like to be there for Rebecca, but if it’d be uncomfortable for you, or if there’s… anything with Tessa, and my being there would make things hard for her and you?—”
“Do you think I’d be here if there was anything with her?”
The question isn’t sharp but insulting, because something did happen with her.
I hesitate, though, unsure I have the energy for anything other than this familiar game of Whac-A-Mole with my feelings. Even if the floor underneath me isn’t solid, it’s at least not collapsing. “I don’t know. A lot can happen in seven months.”
He exhales, a self-deprecating laugh cutting through it. “Yeah. Julian’s baby happened. And a whole lot of reading self-help books.” He meets my eyes. “I stayed in Chicago for Julian and for me. Not for Tessa.”
The space between us tightens. Not closer. Just… charged.
“So,” I say, clearing my throat. “Are you okay with me going to your mom’s party?”
His answer is immediate. “I’d really love that.”
Something warm spreads through my ribs, unexpected and unwelcomed in its intensity.
“Would you want to fly out a day early or so?” he adds. “I promised Julian I’d visit him and Milo.”
