Page 32

"Yeah." My voice comes out as weak as I feel, and before I can stop them, my eyes find his. "It's also been a long time since someone called me that too."

He holds my gaze, and at first I think he's challenging me. But then, I realize he's not actually looking at me but through me—like he's trying to see past the person in front of him to find the one he used to know.

I wait for him to respond. Argue. Yell. Say anything at all. And while I do, I use the time to really take him in for the first time in six years.

His hair is the same but different—still buzzed short, only now it's edged with tapered fades and those precise lines that come with age and status. He dresses like I'd expect—athletic. Joggers and a baseball hoodie that used to symbolize a dream that's now his reality.

His face is more manly, his voice deeper—more serious than it used to be. But tucked into his mannerisms—the way he stands, the way he thinks before he speaks. How he says my name—is the boy I used to know.

"Vienna's getting a cochlear implant," Jace says suddenly.

I look at him, confused—or maybe still lost in thought—to find that intensity gone again.

"Well… she might be," he adds. "We had a consultation today to ask some questions and get more information. That's why I'm here."

"Oh, wow." I blink my way fully back to the present. "That's great, Jace."

He stands a bit taller, and I try not to overthink why.

"I mean, if that's what she wants, it can be life changing."

"Mhmm," he hums softly, then takes a deep breath in. "That's what I'd assume."

In just that answer alone, I see the old him—the version I know like I know myself. He's nervous, unsure. I can tell by the safety in his answer and by the way his shoulders are pushed back like he's forcing a confidence that isn't there.

"I don't know much about that procedure in particular, but I'm happy to help however I can. If more questions come up or if you want me to talk to Vi—"

"We're good." He offers a polite smile he used to save for strangers. "Thanks, though."

But I guess that's what we are now.

"Well, it's nice of you to be here to support her," I say, settling into my nursing voice.

"It's what's right."

He shrugs like he's simply reminding me and not like he's trying to rip me apart like it feels.

The elevator dings before I can agree—or confess that I know that now.

"This is you," he says, nodding to the doors as we slowly come to a stop.

My eyes flick to the buttons lit up beside them, mine no longer red, and his—the ground floor—shining like a warning sign.

"Thanks," I mutter, stepping forward, waiting even longer for them to open than I did for them to close.

Suddenly—I blame the doors and their delayed timing safety feature—I find myself turning back around.

"Maybe we can run together sometime," I suggest before I can stop the words from spewing out. "Ya know, at the park."

I'm different now, I want to add.

I've changed.

I'm here.

The doors open behind me as soon as I finish because… of course they do, and I step out, still waiting for a reply.

Jace's jaw ticks, and a little flutter of hope rises in my chest.