Page 64 of Lose You Twice

“I didn’t.”

“Good. They come back.”

“I’m learning.”

“That you are.”

By the time my shift ends, my hair is falling out of its buns, my hands smell like detergent, and I have a new respect for anyone who packs equipment bags without crying in a supply closet. So much organization that my brain simply cannot get on board with.

Donnelly signs my work-study sheet at 12:18.

“Monday morning,” he says.

“Yes, sir.” I nod. “Five-thirty.”

“And, Calloway?”

I pause with my sweatshirt halfway on.

He gestures toward the rolling cart. “Nice work today.”

The smallest compliment shouldn’t make my throat clog instantly, but it does. Not really sure what that says about me other than that I’ve been feeling extremely underappreciated lately and will take any scrap I can get.

I look away quickly, pretending to adjust my sleeve. “Thank you.”

I step into the hallway and stop.

Kai is there.

Maybe I need to sage this place and get rid of what seems to be some really bad juju in terms of running into him at any and all times.

On the other hand, he’s not bad to look at, especially with his still damp hair, a fitted white tank stretching across his chest perfectly and making him look even hotter than usual. There’s a good chance I might be drooling a bit while ogling my ex, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers and all that.

I can hear Grayson talking to him, so I should be safe to continue my perusal, but when I make it back up to his face, his attention is most definitely not on Grayson.

His eyes are locked right on mine, and I wish I could combust on the spot. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and the smirk that takes over his face is downright sinful.

For a few seconds, the hallway narrows to the space between Kai and me. Part of me hopes he’ll look away.

He doesn’t.

Good.

No, not good.

I don’t know.

I am too tired for this much eye contact before one in the afternoon.

Grayson glances between us before he says something low that I can’t make out, and Kai finally looks away. The loss of his attention should not feel like relief and disappointment at the same time.

I turn toward the exit before my face does something stupid.

Outside, the warm air hits my cheeks, and I take my first proper breath since stepping out of the equipment room. My car is halfway across the lot, sitting crooked between two lines because I was running late this morning, and my parking standards are more aspirational than real.

My phone buzzes before I reach it, and I see a text from my mom.

Mom: I’m so sorry, honey. They asked if I could stay four more hours. Can you handle dinner?