Page 26 of Trade It All

“Do you understand me?”

I nod. I don’t know if I mean it. I just know I need him to let go. He watches me for another second, like he’s deciding something, then releases me just as suddenly as he grabbed me. I suck in a breath, my lungs burning as I press back against the wall, trying to steady myself.

“Fix your face,” he says, already turning toward the door. “And come out when you’re ready.”

The door slams behind him. My hand lifts to my throat, fingertips brushing over skin that feels too warm. I swallow once, then again, trying to steady something that won’t quite settle. Then I move.

Fast.

I cross the room and yank the door open, stepping into the hallway—and he’s there. Like he knew I would try.

His body turns toward me immediately. “Don’t push me, Madison.”

The warning sits between us. Heavy. I stare at him for a second. Then I close the door. Slowly. And walk further into the room. Because right now—I don’t know what else to do. My hands shake as I grab my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen, my mind racing through options that don’t feel like options at all. And then I stop thinking.

Me:

Are you awake?

Luka:

Yep! Everything okay?

Chapter 10

Dean

Thearenasettlesdifferentlyat night. It never goes completely still. It never really empties. There’s always something happening somewhere in the building, some echo of movement or voices carrying faintly down a hallway. But it quiets enough that the noise stops fighting for space in your head, and what’s left is easier to focus on.

That’s why I use my office when I need to get through things that matter.

Paxton’s file is still open on my desk when we stand, pages marked up in a way that says I’ve gone through them more than once and will again before I’m satisfied. There’s potential there. Raw, but real. The kind that doesn’t come around often, and when it does, you don’t half-handle it and hope it figures itself out on its own.

Across from it, the Rizzoli camp plans sit in a growing stack. Notes, revisions, names circled and crossed out, details that keep expanding because once their family gets involved, nothing stays small.

Jake stretches as he steps away from the chair, rolling his shoulders back with a quiet exhale. “You’re not letting that kid breathe, you know that, right?”

“He doesn’t need to breathe,” I say, gathering the papers into a neater stack. “He needs to be ready.”

“He is ready,” Luka adds from the door, leaning against the frame like he’s been there longer than either of us realized. “You just don’t trust it yet.”

“I trust what I can prove,” I answer, sliding the file closed. “Right now, I’m still proving it.”

Jake shakes his head, but there’s no real argument in it. He knows how this works. They both do. We move out into the hallway together, the conversation fading into something easier as we head toward the exit. The lights are dimmed just enough to shift the space, to make it feel bigger than it does during the day when it’s filled with bodies and noise.

Jake breaks off first, clapping Luka on the shoulder before giving me a nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Be ready,” I tell him.

“Always am.” He heads down the opposite hall, leaving me and Luka walking side by side toward the doors.

The quiet settles back in. It’s not heavy. Not uncomfortable. Just there. Then Luka’s phone buzzes. He pulls it out without thinking much of it, thumb swiping across the screen as we keep walking. I don’t pay attention at first. There’s no reason to. Until there is. His steps slow just enough for me to notice. His focus narrows, pulling him out of the moment, and that’s all it takes for my attention to shift.

“What’s up?”

“Maddie,” he says, already typing something back. There’s a thread of concern there, but it hasn’t sharpened yet. “She’s asking if I’m awake.”

Something in my chest tightens. “She say what’s going on?”