Page 83 of The Silver Fox Brother

"Not really," I admit. "Maybe a couple hours around four."

Kate sits back down, her own coffee in hand.

"You should try to rest more. You're running on pure adrenaline right now, and that's going to catch up with you."

I take a long sip of coffee and feel it burn down my throat.

"I can't. My brain won't shut off."

We sit in silence for a moment. The kitchen is warm with morning light streaming through the windows, and I can hear the distant sounds of the neighborhood waking up outside. It feels surreal to be sitting here in this peaceful moment when everything inside me feels like chaos.

Amy leans forward, elbows on the table.

"So what's the plan?"

The question makes my chest tighten.

"I don't know. I need to figure out where I'm going to live. I have to get my stuff from the apartment at some point. I need to call my parents and tell them what happened, and I have a business to run. The Chen project has a meeting scheduled for this afternoon that I need to reschedule, and there are fabric samples that arrived yesterday that I haven't even looked at, and I just—"

My voice breaks.

My hands start shaking, and coffee sloshes dangerously close to the rim of my mug. I set it down quickly before I spill it everywhere.

Kate reaches across the table and covers my hand with hers.

"Winter. Slow down. One thing at a time."

"I don't have time to slow down," I say, and I can hear the edge of panic creeping into my voice.

"I can't just fall apart right now. I have responsibilities. Clients who are counting on me. A business that I've built from nothing, and if I don't keep it together, everything is going to—"

"You need to breathe," Kate interrupts gently.

I shake my head. "If I breathe, I'll fall apart."

Amy's voice is firm. "Then fall apart. We've got you."

I look at her, then at Kate, and I want to believe them. I want to let go and collapse and let someone else hold me together for a while.

But I can't afford to do that. If I stop moving, if I let myself feel everything that's sitting just beneath the surface, I'm going to drown in it. So I have to keep going. I have to stay busy and focused and productive, or I'm going to lose myself completely.

I pull my hand away from Kate's and pick up my coffee again, taking another long drink to steady myself.

My phone, which I turned off and left on the table when I sat down last night, has been turned on again and within seconds it starts buzzing. All three of us look at it. I've been ignoring it all morning, but I finally reach for it and unlock the screen. The notification count makes my stomach turn.

Fourteen missed calls. Twenty-seven text messages. All from numbers I don't recognize, but I know exactly who they're from.

Rowan.

The texts range from apologetic to angry to desperate. I scroll through them, my jaw clenching tighter with each one.

Please talk to me.

You're overreacting.

I love you.

We can fix this.