Page 78 of The Silver Fox Brother

I lean my head back against the seat and close my eyes. I don't cry. Not yet. I’m too numb for tears.

***

The car moves through Lower Manhattan's empty streets…

traffic lights flashing yellow at intersections with no one to stop for.

I pull out my phone with shaking hands. Scroll to Kate's number. Press call.

It rings three times. Please be awake. Please—

"Hello?" Kate's voice is groggy but alert.

"Win? What's wrong?"

"I'm in a car. On my way to your place." My voice sounds hollow in my own ears. "I can't stay at the apartment. Can't be with Rowan."

"What? What happened?"

"I'll tell you when I get there. Please just—can you open the door when I arrive?"

Kate's voice sharpens immediately.

"Of course. Of course. How far are you?"

"Twenty minutes maybe."

"I'll be waiting. Winter—"

"I'm okay. I just need to get there."

"Okay. I'm up. Door will be open."

We hang up.

I lean my head back against the seat, close my eyes, and breathe.

In. Out. In. Out.

The driver merges onto the Brooklyn Bridge. I open my eyes, watch Manhattan fall away behind us, the city lights reflecting on the East River below.

My phone buzzes. Unknown number. I don't answer.

It buzzes again. Different number.

Rowan.

I silence the phone and shove it in my purse.

The bridge spans dark water, connecting one borough to another. The car moves steadily, the driver silent and professional, not asking questions I couldn't answer anyway.

Brooklyn rises ahead—brownstones and tree-lined streets, a different energy than Manhattan's glass towers.

The driver navigates through Park Slope's quiet blocks. Pulls up in front of Kate's building at 1:47 AM.

"This is it," he says.

"Thank you."