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Becka made a noise that was somewhere between doubt and begrudging acceptance. “What’s it been like between you since then?”

“I haven’t spoken to him since.” I shifted in my seat.

“Oh. Are you gonna?” Becka asked the question like it was the most normal thing in the world, and not the proverbial can of worms I’d been avoiding.

I dragged a hand across my forehead and sighed deeply. “Honestly, I dunno.”

“Do you want to?” she asked softly.

“Yes. But also no.”

“Why for both?”

I laughed quietly, leaning my head back against the booth and squeezing my eyes shut.

“Because I miss him,” I said roughly. “And because I don’t… fuck.” I blew out a breath. “It would be so easy to fall back into it. Into him. And I’m so afraid that if I talk to him about anything real that I’ll fold like origami. I’m scared of how much I want to, but I need to see that he’s changed. I love that he worries, but there needs to be a line between worry and making decisions for me because of it. I believe he’s trying,” I said again. “But I don’t think I’d survive again if I’m wrong about that.”

“Babes–”

“I can’t talk about this now,” I said abruptly.

“Okay, okay,” she said quickly. “Got it. No complicated feelings.”

I blew out a breath. “It’s also after midnight here and I have a plane to catch in…” I looked down at my watch. “Fuck. Like eight hours?”

Becka laughed. “Put down the coffee and go to bed.”

I eyed my mug suspiciously. “How’d you know I had a coffee?”

“Babes, when do you ever not? It’s a wonder you don’t spend half the day vibrating, honestly.”

“I’m immune,” I said drily.

“Sure you are.” She laughed. “See you in a few days?”

I softened. “I can’t wait. I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too, babes.”

We hung up, and I was left looking at my phone. At the message screen.

Joon

You didn’t come tonight. I wish you didn’t feel like you needed to hide because of me.

Sent 23:12

Chapter 18

April

Los Angeles

In some ways, arriving back in LA was like a homecoming, and in others it was like stepping through one door and ending up a whole world apart from where I’d been before. From who I had been before.

It had not escaped my notice that we were back where it had all begun. LA in April. I was a mess of emotions, not least of all frustration, because while the convoy of crew vehicles was pouring into the parking lot of a large hotel not far from Sofi Stadium, the group was on their way to a rented mansion in Beverly Hills.

It wasn’t because I had decided to talk to him, but having the option taken away from me and once again being reminded of the filter between us created a kind of resentment I wasn’t prepared for. I constantly felt on edge. There was no neutral ground. It was frustrating.