LOGINJADEWe don’t talk in the car. I don’t know how to start a conversation after what just happened, and Derek looks like he’s holding himself together with willpower alone, knuckles split and already swelling around the wheel.He walks me inside. Sits me on the couch. Gets the first aid kit from under the sink without being asked, because apparently he knows where everything in this house is, because apparently he’s thought about this house — about me — a lot more than he’s ever let on.He wraps his own knuckles, not mine, since I’m the one who’s fine, technically, physically, even if nothing else about me feels fine right now.“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he says suddenly, not looking up from his hands.“About tonight?”“About the kiss.” His jaw works. “Four days, Jade. Four days of you avoiding me, and then I find out you’re at dinner with some guy in a private room, and I can’t —” He stops. Starts again, quieter. “I can’t get you out of my head. I haven’t been able to since you
JADEPreston’s hand is on my thigh before I’ve finished my second glass of wine, and when I move it away, he laughs like I’m playing a game with him.“Come on,” he says, sliding closer on the small booth bench. “This is why I rented the room, Jade. Privacy.”“I thought it was romantic,” I say, and I hear how small my voice has gotten, how the room feels suddenly too warm and too small and too far from the door. “Preston, back up.”“You wore that dress for a reason.”“I wore it because I liked it.” I try to stand. His hand catches my wrist, hard, harder than it should be for a man who spent the appetizer course talking about his golden retriever and his mother’s book club.“Don’t play hard to get.” His mouth is too close to my ear now, his breath sour with wine. “I know what girls like you want.”“Let go of me.” My voice cracks. I shove at his chest, and he barely moves, pinning me against the booth with a weight I can’t fight, and for one horrible second I’m back in the fountain, wate
JADE I avoid him for four days. It isn’t hard, exactly. He still comes by — I hear the front door, hear him talking to nobody because I’m not there to argue with, hear him leave a coffee cup on the counter that I don’t touch until it’s cold and then throw away out of spite, mostly at myself. On the second day he leaves a note under the cup, just a single line — you don’t have to talk to me, but drink the coffee, it’s a waste otherwise — and I throw that away too, and then fish it out of the trash an hour later and put it in the drawer of my nightstand, which tells me everything I need to know about how well the avoidance plan is actually working. I tell Nina everything on day two, in a voice that keeps sliding into a whisper even though we’re alone in my room. “You kissed him,” she says, very slowly, like she’s making sure she heard correctly. “You kissed Derek Yamanaka. On purpose. With your mouth.” “That’s generally how kissing works, yes.” “And then you ran away in his shirt
DEREKWe reach.Not Marcus’s house. Mine.I carry her out of the car and into the building. The elevator takes forever. She’s shaking in my arms. Her beautiful dress is soaked through. Water drips onto the floor.I need to get her out of these wet clothes.The wet fabric will only make her brain think she’s still in the water. Will make the panic last longer. Will make the reversion worse.I take her to my bathroom. Set her on the floor. She’s curled up, knees to her chest, still crying.I go to the closet. Grab a black shirt. A towel. I run a hand over my face, through my hair.Then it hits me.I’m going to have to change her.That alone is its own level of difficult.Shit.I hear her crying. Her breathing is fast. Too fast. She’s struggling to breathe.Shit.I grab the clothes and go back. Kneel in front of her.“Jade.” Soft. “It’s okay.”She looks up at me. Her eyes are red. Her lips are still pale. She’s shivering so hard her teeth chatter.“Derek.” My name comes out broken. A sob
JADEIt’s been about thirty minutes since Derek left. I’ve been weaving through the crowd, searching for Nina. No sign of her. No texts. Nothing.I’m standing by the fountain now. The water is dark. Lights reflect off the surface. I lean against the edge, exhausted.“Hey.”I look up. A blond woman is standing in front of me. She’s tall. Sharp. Expensive dress. Her eyes are cold.“That’s not a nice way to address someone,” I say. “How can I help you?”She’s the same woman from the office, the same one from the brunch weeks ago, the same practiced cold smile I’ve now catalogued twice before tonight — except tonight there’s something sharper underneath it, something that’s clearly been building for a while and has finally found its target standing alone by a fountain with no one around to intervene.She’s not alone. There’s another woman behind her. A friend. Or an assistant. Hard to tell.“You don’t know who I am, do you?” The blond smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes.“Should I?”She tos
DEREKI’m standing at the alumni gala of Manhattan School of Visual Arts. The lights are low. Champagne glasses clink. People laugh too loud.I’m not an alumnus here. But I owe a friend a favor, so here I am. Rufus. He helped me with a contract two years ago. Now he wants to talk business.Fine. But I have to leave soon. Meetings. Important things.Rufus walks up to me. Middle-aged. Expensive suit. Sweaty handshake. I give him a firm grip and a short nod.“Derek. Glad you could make it.”“Rufus.”He launches into it. A deal. Something about supply chains. We’re in the same line of work, apparently. He wants to cut me in.I nod along. Pay attention. Or I try to.Then I don’t.Not because I can’t. I’m distracted.I catch her across the room.Jade.She’s wearing a black dress. Cut low in the front. Slit up the side. Her dark hair falls over one shoulder. The dress hugs every curve. Every shape I tried not to notice before.She’s laughing at something. Nina is with her—the redhead who bro







