Because Frank is gone, and he left me with the one thing I’d spent my whole life trying not to face. The truth that surviving isn’t the same as living.
And if I keep choosing control over connection, I’ll end up exactly where he warned me I would.
In a quiet room. Alone.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Melissa
He finds me in the hallway between patient rooms, like he’s been looking for me. He’s not rushing to avoid me this time. He’s just waiting.
“Melissa,” he says, quiet enough that it feels private, even with people passing nearby.
I turn, my stomach tightening immediately. His face looks different.
“Can we talk tonight?” he asks. “At my place.”
There it is. The thing I’ve been bracing for since his text.
“I don’t want to do this here,” he adds quickly. “And I don’t want to rush it. I just … need to talk.”
I study him for a moment, trying to read what’s underneath the words.
This isn’t an apology tour or him trying to smooth things over. If anything, he looks like he’s standing on unstable ground and knows it. My heart hurts for him.
“I’m not coming over to fix you,” I say carefully.
His mouth twitches. “I know.”
“And I’m not making promises,” I continue. “I’ve done that before.”
He nods. “I wouldn’t ask you to.”
The sincerity in his voice is what makes me say yes.
“Okay,” I say. “We can talk.”
I try to push my thoughts about Colton away the rest of the day, but they’re there, wondering and waiting for what he could possibly want to talk about.
That evening, the doorman greets me by name.
That alone makes my nerves spike with the reminder of how different our worlds are, how effortlessly his money opens doors without him even being present. He smiles and gestures toward the private elevator, telling me Colton said the door would be open.
My pulse is loud in my ears as the elevator climbs.
When I open the door to his apartment, it’s oddly quiet and dark. The city lights spill in through the massive windows, painting everything in soft gold and shadow.
“Colton?” I call wearily.
“In here,” his voice echoes from his bedroom.
I hesitate only a second before walking in.
He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, fully dressed, elbows resting on his knees. He’s staring out the window, but I don’t think he’s really seeing anything.
He looks … dazed. Like he’s been underwater too long and only just surfaced.
I close the door behind me softly.
