Page 17 of Mr. Match

“We’re not coming.” Nolan’s voice is calm, controlled, and emotionless.

I have always thought of him as high-strung. Kinda like one of Paxton’s mother’s horses. “Were you even invited?”

“Are you gonna play games with me, Match? Because I can play along if you want. I’m a player.”

“I’m just fucking with you. It’s—”

“We’re not coming.”

I sigh. “It’s just a few days. Ariel wants to see Ivy and shit. All the other girls are here.”

“Ellie’s not there.”

“I think they’re coming though. Last I heard one of the girls was gonna call her up and send and invite. For dinner tonight, I think.”

“Don’t count on it.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“Do you really have to ask? Your ass is hot, Shrike. You’re next, motherfucker. And my wife is pregnant, do you get me? She’s not coming all the way out there just to be dragged into whatever bullshit is coming your way.”

“Nothing’s happening.”

“Yet. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before some girl comes knocking on your door. Some long-lost friend, lover, whatever it is you have going with the girls you fuck these days. It’s only a matter of time. And you know what?”

“What?” I ask, getting back up to look out the window again. Maybe when it gets darker I’ll be able to see into some of those lofts.

“I wouldn’t even trust you to tell me first.”

“Don’t be a dick, Nolan.”

“You’d tell Five, probably. Pax. Your sister. But that’s it. You’d let my wife be bait. Because that’s just the kind of guy you are.”

“Whatever. Don’t come then. Like I give a fuck. As I said, this was Ariel’s idea, not mine. Everything is cool here with me. No long-lost girlfriends have showed up. No weird knocks on the door.”

Dead air.

I look at my phone and shove it in my pocket, still scanning the buildings across the street.

What if she’s got an apartment on my side of the street?

I look out at the Fort Collins Theater across Jefferson Street. Katya’s not in there. There are no apartments on the upper floors, only offices. Besides, all of them belong to Sparrow’s family and most of that building has been turned into the new haunted house in town.

I look to my left. My feet are moving that direction and I’m pulling the curtains aside before I can even process.

My window is glass on three sides. A bump-out. A bay, whatever the fuck you call them. So I can see a lot of things up here. And there is a building. Brand new, sleek, and modern lofts priced in the high five hundreds. Two buildings down, six stories high—which makes it the highest building on the block and gives a clear view right into my office. Every light is on in the windows facing me. Every light but one.

“I got you, Kat. I got you.” I’m pulling on my jacket, about to do some recon over there to try to flush her out, when Hook-Me-Up dings me a notification on Katya’s profile.

I sit in my desk chair and just stare at the video. The still shot is her. Her whole body, including her face. The scar I thought I’d grown accustomed to all those years ago shocks me tonight. She has no makeup on. Nothing to hide the elliptical white line that starts at one ear, crosses her throat in a near-perfect arc so clean it looks surgical, and ends at the other.

My fingertips reach out to touch it. “What really happened to you? Why wouldn’t you ever tell me the truth?”

She doesn’t answer. She never did, never will. I begged her once. I was drunk and sad and I begged.

But her lips are silent. Her secrets safe.

“They’d be safe with me too,” I say out loud.