my calm acceptance. He must have expected tears

ted reaction gave m

ng into that familiar, vulnerable tone that used to

ll. As his fingers wrapped around my bicep, a sharp pain shot from the wound in my side, a v

e gently toward the door. "This place is too much

t I' d fixed and the threadbare couch where we had spent hours talking, planning a future that was nev

ulated. Every breath was a conscious effort to maintain my composure. He hailed a cab,

oney meant he had a future, a future with me. I stared out the window at the blurry city lights, the w

he wall, the beat-up guitar in the corner, the small stack of bills on the kitchen counter tha

, collapsing onto the couch.

to get a glass of water. My reflection in t

pless. He tried to pull me close, to wrap his arms arou

dy was a lie. The steady beat of his heart was a lie. I lay there for hours, listening to his

stay another second. I slipped out of bed, careful not to wake him. I gathere

red. "Chloe?" he mumbled, his voice th

the doorknob. I h

anage where I grew up. It was a plausible lie. She was the closest thing I

s. "So early? Let me driv

f I was still the same

"You need to rest. I' ll take the bus

down, pulling the covers up. "Alrig

ightstand. He glanced at the screen, and a subtle shift in

e suddenly sharp and business-like. "A last-minute m

his movements hurried. He didn' t even

his shoulder, stepping out into the h

as I heard his muffled vo

me. She' s going to see that old woman at the orphanage... Yeah, I know. Just get

ed shut, and t

ere in the fake, shabby apartment, the last echo

r the first time in