Page 54 of Never After Us
“But—”
“Nope,” Mara cuts in, pointing her spoon like she’s conducting a symphony and Mila’s the lone violinist refusing to follow tempo.“He’ll come back another day.”
My brain short-circuits atHe’ll come back.
I don’t think so.Never again.I’m moving somewhere else, like Tasmania.
“I ...should really go,” I repeat, because apparently, my vocabulary has shrunk to four words and one exit strategy.
Mara leans her hip against the counter, all sunshine and trouble and softness I don’t know how to deal with.“It’s okay, Alec.She does this with everyone.You’re just her newest victim.”
“Comforting,” I mutter.
“It should be,” she teases.“She only interrogates people she likes.”
I freeze.
I swallow and nod once like an idiot before backing toward the door.
“Bye, Mr.Grump.”Mila waves her dog’s paw at me.“Don’t forget I have more questions.”
“Terrifying,” I whisper.
And Mara laughs—bright and real—and somehow that sound stays with me long after I slip back onto my own balcony and close the door behind me.
ChapterSixteen
Mara
The moment the front door closes behind Alec, the whole apartment shifts—like someone let out a breath and forgot to pull the air back in.
Mila wanders down the hallway with her stuffed puppy tucked under her arm, humming some tune she probably invented on the spot.And suddenly, it’s just me.
Standing alone in a space that somehow feels too much and not enough, heart hammering with information I have absolutely no idea how to hold.
I live next door to Alec fucking Hovarth.
One of the best drummers of the ’90s.Probably of all grunge history.His rhythms shaped a generation and—no big deal—he drinks coffee in a comfortable sweater and scowls at me when I mention his misaligned chakras.
He’s grumpy, but he’s talented.
And still hot.
So hot I’m fighting the attraction like it’s the battle of a lifetime.Which is hard, because after that look he gave me.The one where he was trying to decide whether to argue or drag me against the kitchen counter and kiss me until I forgot my own name.
God.The way his eyes dropped to my lips for just a second too long.I wanted him to lean in.
I wanted it, and not just in a passing, casual, harmless way.
No.
I wanted to feel that mouth on mine—wanted to know what it would be like to grab a fistful of that thick sweater and pull him close, just once.
But nope, that’s not going to happen.
Absolutely not.
That’s not what I do.
