Page 111 of The KING Review

I nod, even though it feels like a guilty verdict. “We get it. That’s… fine. Thanks, Ellie.” My hands are balled into fists on my knees. Neve is already gathering her bag, face set, and when she stands, she’s careful not to look back at me until we’re in the hall.

The glass door ticks shut behind us. The corridor is empty, white noise echoing. Neither of us says a word on the walk out—not even when we hit the cold slap of rain outside. I unlock my car by habit, and we both climb in, shutting the world out with a hollow thunk.

Then it’s just the sound of breathing, and the rain needling against the windshield.

Neve turns in the seat. “Are you okay?” Her voice is gentle but firm—the kind you use to keep someone from going under.

I try a laugh, but it comes out warped and watery. “That’s a loaded question.”

She hums, staring at her hands in her lap. “It’s going to be all right, you know. This is just the part where it sucks for a little while.” She shrugs. “So, we didn’t get our third-act breakup. This is our conflict.”

I chuff a sound. It’s not a laugh. I want to believe her. I wish I could. My shoulders feel like they’ve been poured full of cement.

She leans over, hand sliding onto my forearm, warm and steady. “You did everything right. You did the letter, and you told the truth. You’re not the bad guy here, baby.”

I glare at the steering wheel. “It doesn’t matter if nobody believes me. It doesn’t matter if Marie makes me out to be some kind of manipulative creep. If the letter doesn’t show up, I’m screwed. I lose my job, then I lose my daughter.” The words are practically wrung out of me with a wheeze.

Neve’s hand squeezes, thumb stroking slowly. “The letter is going to show up. I know it will.”

I want to believe her so badly it hurts.

She shifts closer, and suddenly her arms are around my shoulders, pulling me into her. I go, because I can’t not. I let her hold me. God, I need her to hold me. My whole body goes loose, like every muscle just gives up the fight.

I bury my face in her collar, jaw scraping her neck. She smells like rain and her citrus shampoo; she feels like home. Her fingers rake through my hair, slow. “Grant, I need you to listen to me. It’s going to be okay, I promise.”

Her lips press to my forehead, but even in her arms, I can’t help but murmur, “But what if it’s not?”

Sera’s asleep, finally, her little dinosaur night light casting her in blue and green. I close her door gently, padding down the hall. The apartment is dark except for the kitchen, which glows gold like a sitcom set under the copper-shaded lamps over the island.

When there’s a knock at the door, my heart drops into my ass—but it’s not Marie (thank fuck), it’s Cade, holding a brown tote bag and a bottle of rye, which he raises when my eyes meet his. “Permission to enter the lair?”

I wave him in, and he drops the bag on the counter, immediately setting out his cocktail kit like a traveling snake oil salesman.

“I heard you had a shitty day,” he says, not even bothering with pleasantries. “Thought you might need a Manhattan, or eight.”

I almost laugh, but it comes out as a tired exhale. “News travels fast.”

He snorts. “Yeah, man.” He glances up, and his blue eyes are dark. “I’m sorry.”

He pours rye, vermouth, and bitters. The ice cracks in the shaker. He slides a glass across to me, then hoists his own.

“To the mail gods,” he says. “May they work in your favor.”

I chuckle despite myself. “It was Marie.”

Cade blinks, but he doesn’t look surprised. “She’s always been a piece of work.”

“HR pulled me out of my office, but—” I scrub a hand over my face. “Fuck—what if I’d been teaching? Even if it all gets cleared up, shit sticks, you know?”

He hums. “So, what now?”

I shrug. “I’m on mandatory leave. If the letter shows up, I get to keep my job. If it doesn’t, I’m toast.”

He turns the glass in his hand, watching the meniscus tilt. “She’s doing it to get Sera?”

“Of course she is.” I stare at the counter. “But it’s not just that. She just… can’t stand that I’m actually happy.”

His mouth tilts. “That’s the thing, man. You are happy. Or at least, you seem… less haunted.”