Page 13 of Rook
To the dust in the air. To the broken doorframe. To Avery standing in the middle of that ruined place, small, tired, stubborn, beautiful in a way that made his chest hurt.
To the way she’d looked at him.
Like he was a stranger.
He squeezed his eyes shut, jaw tightening.
Seven years. Seven years of silence. Seven years of pretending he didn’t wait for her. Seven years of telling himself she wasn’t coming back.
And then she walked into his night like a ghost he’d never stopped seeing.
He remembered the weight of his cut on her shoulders. How wrong it looked. How right it felt.
He remembered the way she’d whispered his name —Noah— like it hurt her to say it.
He remembered the way she’d flinched when he snapped. The way she’d pulled back. The way she’d handed his cut back like it burned her.
His chest tightened until he had to brace harder against the wall.
He’d never stopped waiting for her.
Not really. Not in the ways that mattered. Not in the ways that kept him up at night.
And he hated himself for it.
One look from her unraveled him. Her voice still lived in his bones. He’d carried her inside tonight without thinking, like she still belonged to him.
And God help him, part of him wanted her to.
He let the water hit his face, scalding, grounding, useless.
He was Rook. Vice President. A man with responsibilities. A man with a life built from the ashes she left behind.
He wasn’t Noah anymore.
He couldn’t be.
But standing there under the water, steam thick around him, listening to the muffled sounds of the clubhouse through the walls…
He felt like both men at once.
The one she left. And the one she came back to.
And he didn’t know which one hurt more.
Chapter 4
Avery
Avery woke to the sound of metal clanking.
For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar: old plaster, faint water stains, a crack running diagonally like a lightning bolt. The air smelled faintly of dust, cold air, and something warm beneath it… cinnamon, maybe. A ghost of Sweet Treats buried under years of neglect.
Then she heard it again.
A sharp metallicclang, followed by a low, irritated curse.
Someone was outside. Someone was messing with her car.
