Page 116 of Fallen Rook

Me: Don’t bask in it.

Butterfly: Wait, is that a yes???

Me: One time. To get it out of your system.

Butterfly: And into yours…

Butterfly: jkjkjkjk.

Butterfly: Also, wow, I see you’re back in your stalker era.

Me: I never left.

Butterfly: The post is a minute old.

Me: Delete the picture.

Butterfly: Why? It’s my best angle.

Me: I never gave you permission to show people my dick.

Butterfly: You mean MY dick.

Me: No, I mean MY dick. That dick is never seeing anyone else again.

Butterfly: Deleted.

Butterfly: So…when and where?

I left him on read, pressing my forehead to my desk and banging it softly.

There was relinquishing control, and then there was boarding a flaming train wreck, and I knew my actions classified as the latter.

Just as I knew casualties would be guaranteed.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Enzo

I was on my bike, weaving through heavy traffic in downtown Manhattan, when Luca called. The desire to ghost his ass singed through my veins, but I happened to stop at a red light, which felt convenient. Plus, these days, who knew what could throw him into the arms of depression. The man was down bad for a wife who was probably screwing the literal enemy.

Flicking my thumb over my phone, I pinned it between my ear and helmet and flipped the visor down. “Whaddup?”

“I need help.”

“Jesus, man. I’m so fucking glad you came to this conclusion. About three decades delayed, but you know what they say. Better late than never.”

The light turned green and I forged ahead, zipping down Fifth Avenue. I had a lull between beating people up, so I’d decided to buy Tom a pair of cool sneakers. He had impeccable style, normally speaking, but his gym attire was embarrassing. He didn’t have to look like an old man just because no one was watching him at his building’s gym. No boyfriend of mine was going to walk around in fucking Hokas.

Plus, it wasn’t entirely true that no one was watching. I’d managed to get access to the CCTV footage and enjoyed the view of him doing his chin-ups and push-ups. He was so fucking cute.

“Do you want me to hook you up with Tierney’s psychologist?” I asked. “She swears by he—”

“I need help with business,” Luca specified, grinding each syllable between clenched teeth. “Not with…whatever the fuck other people go to therapists for.”

“Mental health,” I provided.

“Yeah, I don’t buy into that new-age bullshit. If it ain’t bleeding, I ain’t treating it.”