Page 168 of Suite 7

Walk to my bedroom. Look at the outfit I’ve laid out for tomorrow — jeans and a sweater. Casual. Not trying too hard. Not performing anything.

Just me. Hurt. Angry. Willing to listen.

Friday, six fifty-two PM

* * *

Eight minutes.

Kane will be here in eight minutes.

I’ve cleaned my apartment twice. Changed clothes three times. Settled on the jeans and sweater — put together but not performative.

I pace from the living room to the kitchen and back. Check my phone. Six fifty-four PM.

Six minutes.

My stomach churns. My hands shake. My heart pounds in my throat.

What if I can’t do this? What if I’m too angry? What if seeing him makes everything worse?

What if⁠—

A knock at the door.

Seven PM.

Right on time. Of course he is.

I freeze in the middle of my living room, staring at the door.

Another knock. Softer this time. Hesitant.

“Sloane?” His voice is muffled through the door. “It’s me.”

I know it’s him. I’ve known that voice my whole life.

My brother.

The person who broke my trust.

The person I love most in the world, besides Vera.

I cross to the door and place my hand on the knob.

Deep breath.

Another. Then I open it.

30 Kane

Friday, Seven PM

* * *

I stand outside Sloane’s door at seven o’clock with my hand raised to knock and my heart going too hard in my chest.

I knock, then lower my hand and wait.