Page 100 of Crease Collision

Nope.

KAI: I’ve been looking forward to it too. Thanks for being so understanding. I promise nothing will get in the way next week. Sorry, Ozzy.

OZZY: I’m sad, but it will be fine. We can stay in touch while you’re in California, right?

KAI: Sure. This is only for today.

And I mean it. Every fucking word.

KAI: I’ll text you tomorrow night after we get to LA.

OZZY: Please do. I’ll worry if I don’t hear from you.

KAI: I promise.

OZZY: Okay. Good luck today. I’ll miss you.

KAI: You too. Talk to you soon.

I fight the urge to throw my phone across the room. Instead, I scrub the counters even though they’re already clean. When that doesn’t make me feel better, I strip the bed, change the sheets, and tidy the hobby room. Anything to keep moving.

In the shower, all I can think about is Oskar sitting alone in his apartment, pretending this doesn’t hurt. And knowing I’m the reason it does.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

KAI AND OSKAR

KAI

The plane hums over the Midwest, far above the snow-covered fields. My teammates are spread around the cabin talking and playing games. I’m sitting alone near the back listening to music with my phone in my hand.

Oskar’s message was waiting when I got up.

OZZY: Fly safe. I’ll miss you.

KAI: Me too.

A fucking heart.

I sent it. And I meant it.

Both of those facts are currently a problem, so I lock the phone and shove it into my pocket like I’m hiding evidence.

Saturday keeps replaying in my mind. I canceled. I bailed on him because my head was—no, is—a mess of static and frayed nerves.

Ozzy is so understanding. That’s the part I can’t get comfortable with. If he’d gotten pissed off, I could’ve dealt with that, but patience is who he is.

Once that thought sets in, my brain does what it always does and starts skating laps.

Christmas market, the Scandinavian booth. The look on his face when he found his parents’ gifts. I’d filled my condo with every Swedish thing I could find because I wanted him to be happy on his first Christmas away from home.

And he was.

Which meant I was.

That’s the problem. Ozzy isn’t some guy I have great sex with. He’s the person who makes me happy.

I’ll stay in touch with him this week. I will not disappear.