Page 45 of Shattered

“Of course. Yes. Take all the time you need.” He grabbed onto my words like they were rope and he was falling. “I’ll wait however long it takes. I promise.”

I stood, gathering my bag. The restaurant felt too warm, too small, too full of memories I didn’t know what to do with.

“Delia?” His voice stopped me halfway to standing. “Are you seeing someone?”

The question landed wrong—too sudden, too invasive.

I thought about Axel. About the almost-kiss on the balcony.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” Jake looked down at his hands. “I trust you,”

I left without answering because I didn’t have an answer. Not one that made sense anyway.

That evening I stress painted. The canvas was covered in angry reds and blacks, violent brushstrokes that had no plan beyond getting the feeling out of my body and onto something that could contain it.

I heard Axel come home. The sound of his key turning, his footsteps crossing the threshold, the careful way he set down his bag like he was trying not to disturb me.

I kept painting.

“How did it go?” he asked after a moment.

I didn’t turn around. Didn’t stop moving the brush. “Jake’s a mess. He’s begging for another chance.”

“What did you tell him?”

“That I need time to think.”

Silence stretched between us. Then, quieter, “Are you considering it? Giving him another chance?”

I finally turned to look at him. He stood by the kitchen counter with that impenetrable expression he wore that I’d never managed to read.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Part of me thinks I’d be insane to even consider it. But another part remembers being happy. Remembers feeling like I mattered to someone.”

“You do matter.”

“Is that why you’re here?” The words came out sharper than I meant. “Because I matter? Or because Daniel asked you to stay?”

“Both things can be true.”

“Which one matters more?”

He looked at me for a long moment. Something raw flickered across his face before he locked it away again.

“Does it need to matter?” he asked finally.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Because I almost kissed you. Because I think about you constantly and having you here has stopped feeling temporary and started feeling necessary and that terrifies me.

“Because I need to know where I stand with everyone,” I said instead. “Jake. You. Daniel. Everyone.”

“You stand exactly where you’ve always stood.” His voice was quiet. “Being the best part of every room you walk into… and somehow still doubting yourself.”

It wasn’t an answer. Not really. But he turned and walked away before I could push further and the conversation was apparently over.

We moved through the evening like planets in orbit — close enough to feel each other’s gravity, far enough to pretend we didn’t.