Page 98 of Show Me

“Can I help you?”

For one second, I think I hear breathing. Then the line goes dead. I stare at the phone. Wrong number. Again.

Except this time, I’m not at the gym.

A chill works its way beneath my sweater before the phone rings again. I nearly jump. “Cole Construction.”

This time, a man asks for directions to the Oak site. Normal. I give directions. Confirm an order. Write things down I don’t need to double-check.

Every time the door opens, I glance up. Then back down. Then up again the next time it happens.

It’s ridiculous and naive, but I still do it.

Mr. Cole watches from his desk, coffee mug in hand. He doesn’t say anything. Just studies me longer than necessary before sliding a folder across the counter. “Oak site.”

“Got it.” I grab the keys before I can think about it too much. Movement is better.

The Oak site smells like sawdust and damp earth. The frame of the house stretches up against the pale sky, beams exposed, the shape of something unfinished.

I spot him before I’m fully out of the truck. Of course I do. He’s near the garage frame, tape measure hooked at his hip, one hand braced against a post while he marks something along the wood.

Focused. Still. Like everything else fades when he’s working. Like last night didn’t happen. Of course it didn’t impact him. He’s used to casual sex—physical connection without consequences.

I close the truck door harder than I mean to. He looks up. Our eyes meet, steady, neutral. Then his gaze drops back to the board in front of him. No pause. No second look.

I’m so fucking stupid. I drag in a breath and start walking. Each step feels measured. Too aware. The folder shifts in my hand. I tighten my grip on it, then loosen it again.

"Your dad needed these signed." I hold it out without any pleasantries.

He takes it. Our fingers brush, quick, unavoidable, and the contact lingers long enough to register before he pulls back.

"Thanks." That’s it. No hesitation. No acknowledgment that last night shifted the earth’s axis. Because it didn’t for him.

He flips the folder open, already scanning the pages. I nod like that’s enough. Like that’s all I expected from him. Tears sting my eyes before I can blink them away.

Don’t. Do not break down. Not now.

"Here." He hands them back to me. Our fingers brush again, but the reaction stays the same. None.

"Right." My steps are a little too fast at first. I slow them down before anyone notices.

Behind me, the sound of his voice blends back into the rest of the site. Instructions. Measurements. Normal. Like nothing changed. Because nothing did.

Chapter Fifty

Xavier

I take the long way home. Gravel turns to pavement, then back again, the truck rolling through roads I don’t usually bother with. Slower. Out of the way.

It keeps me from passing the office. That’s enough reason. The wheel shifts under my hands as I take another turn I don’t need to take.

Her shoulders flash in my head anyway, squared, controlled, like she was bracing for something that never came.

I adjust my grip on the wheel and drive, tension coiling through my back and shoulders.

The house is loud before I even open the door. Voices. The TV. Something hitting the floor hard enough to rattle the walls.

I push inside with my shoulder, keys already in my hand.