Page 140 of Override

"I don't think I'll hear your music anymore." Another shaky breath. "But that's okay."

No. No, it isn't.

"I'll hear it anyway." She laughs softly through what sounds suspiciously like tears. "Every time one of those songs comes on..." A breath. "...I'll think of you."

My chest aches. Not sharp. Not sudden. Something quieter. Deeper. The kind of hurt that settles in your bones.

"So..." Another pause. "...thank you."

Silence. I wait. Certain she'll say something else. Anything. Nothing comes.

The microphone crackles once. Then goes silent.

I keep holding the speaker against my ear anyway. Long after I know she's gone. Long after the silence becomes louder than her voice ever was.

I don't remember standing. I don't remember crossing the room. One second I'm sitting. The next my hands are braced against the desk while I stare at the dark monitors. Every camera. Every exploit. Every line of code.

Worthless.

Because none of them could reach her anymore.

My reflection stares back at me from one of the dark monitors. I barely recognize the man looking back.

Because somewhere between a surveillance assignment...A cup of French vanilla coffee...And a girl whispering goodbye into an empty bathroom…She stopped being the assignment.

She became everything. I’m in love with her. And she thinks she just said goodbye.

Chapter 29

Maeve

The silence on the other side of the bathroom door feels different now.

Heavier. Permanent.

I keep my hand wrapped around the doorknob for another few seconds, staring at the wood grain beneath my fingertips as though if I wait long enough, I'll hear something.

A click. A laugh. One more ridiculous song. Anything. Nothing comes.

The bathroom suddenly feels too small. Too full of everything I just left behind.

I pull the door open and step into the empty guest bedroom, closing it quietly behind me before making my way toward the balcony doors.

The cool night air greets me the second I step outside.

For one brief moment, I think it might be enough. Enough to calm the ache pressing against my chest. Enough to steady the knot growing in my throat.

It isn't.

My legs give out before I even realize they've stopped working.

The wrought-iron chair catches me awkwardly as I sink into it, and then...I break.

A sob tears through me so suddenly I don't recognize the sound as my own. I press the heels of my hands against my eyes, trying to stop it.

Trying to breathe. Trying to understand why this hurts so much.

Because it shouldn't. It doesn't make any sense.