Chapter Nineteen

Talia sat on the train with tears running down her face. There was no use hiding it. It had taken everything in her to keep it together in front of Reed’s family. She couldn’t pretend anymore that every inch of her didn’t hurt.

How could Reed have held her all night and then turned around and basically told his mother, his brothers, everyone important, that she was nothing?

Some part of her knew it was a defense mechanism. It wasn’t like he’d fully thought through everything he’d said. It had happened in the moment, and if that look in his eyes was any indication, he was probably wishing right now that he could take that moment back.

But that didn’t make it sting any less.

Because Reed was careful. Quiet. Intentional about what he did and the words he said.

He didn’t fly off the handle. He didn’t show his emotion on his face. No way would he bawl his eyes out on a train, so that a man came by and offered her a tissue, and another woman told her pityingly that whatever it was, she hoped Talia would be okay.

It was what was wonderful about him. It made him steady, reliable, the kind of person who could face unimaginable situations at his job and keep his cool, and wake up the next day to do it all over again.

And it was infuriating. Did she really want to sit there in the car with him and have to drag out every word? Maybe he was right and there was no future between them, because how could she be with someone long-term who couldn’t be honest about what was in his head, let alone in his heart?

Like it would have been that hard for him to say to his family, “Yeah, Talia’s awesome.” Not, “I’m asking for her hand in marriage after knowing her for four weeks.” Not, “Mom, brothers, fourth cousin twice removed, this is the one.” But something easy. “I don’t know where this is going, but so far it’s great.”

He could have blown off his mother with a characteristic Reed non-answer, a grunt as he refilled his coffee and trudged back upstairs. That at least she’d have understood. They could have laughed about it—his pestering mother, all eyes eagerly watching to see if his bachelor days were over.

But no.

He’d done everything he could to make sure they knew—and she knew—that whatever was happening between them, it wasn’t what she might have thought. It was just a fling, a little hanky panky to tide them over. No caring about each other. No feelings involved.

He could have whispered. He could have insisted to his mother that they talk about it later. She could still hear his voice echoing through her mind, the way it carried throughout the house. Talia and I are just casual. It’s not like I’m going to marry her. She knew she was right that he’d expected her to hear him. And then when she said something about it, he could barely stammer out a reply.

But what had she expected? Being with him was like being with a porcupine. No wonder she’d gotten stabbed.

She lugged her bags from the station to the subway, then took the train up to Washington Heights. The trip felt endless, nothing like the drive with his hand in hers, a breeze through the windows, the endless ocean coming into view.

The city was sweaty and cramped. She was jammed in the subway car with her bag and too many noises, everyone jostling against her. By the time she made it to Reed’s building, she wanted to collapse, exhausted from the long trip and the hole in her heart.

But there was no time to rest. As soon as she stepped into his apartment, she knew she couldn’t stay there anymore. She couldn’t sleep with him, not with this ache in her heart. But sleeping in his bed while he slept on the couch would be worse.

She’d put it off long enough, pretending she had no options just so she could get closer to him.

But it was time to bite the bullet. She pulled out her phone.

SOS, she sent in a group text to her friends. Things got bad with Reed, surprise surprise, and I need a place to stay.

Some part of her dared to hope that Reed was right behind her. He’d burst through the door, take her in his arms, and tell her what an idiot he’d been to let her get on that train. He’d explain what he’d meant in a way that made sense. He’d talk to her, instead of giving her so little to go on.

But as the minutes passed, and the apartment stayed quiet and empty, she knew that was too much to expect. It was Max all over again, and she’d been a fool to think it was anything else.

She had a show opening in less than a week, and if she didn’t put it all on the line on opening night, there was no way she’d be invited back to keep dancing as a principal lead in the ballet. This was her big break. If it all went south, she’d have no one to blame but herself. Not Reed, for breaking her heart. But her, for getting so caught up in him to begin with.

When Rose texted back that her fiancé was traveling for work and she’d love to have the company, Talia told herself as she packed her bags that this was a good thing.

It was better to know where she stood with Reed than to keep pretending. It was better to spend more time with friends and stay focused on dance.

It was better to leave his apartment, dropping his spare key on the kitchen table on her way out.

It was better not to turn around for a second look at this place where she’d been so happy, before she closed the door on that unexpected chapter of her life and made herself move on.

…

The rest of Reed’s day was endless.

Football with his brothers on the beach, barbecue with his cousins, Sunday dinner at home, sitting between his grandma and his mom. It should have been the perfect weekend, everyone laughing, raising a toast.

But Reed was gnashing his teeth through every second.

He couldn’t believe Talia had left. Just up and gone, like it was totally okay to tell his family she was staying for the weekend and then change her mind halfway through. Like she could go through life doing whatever she wanted, saying whatever she felt.

He wished he could have stopped time, stepped back, taken a minute to breathe and figure out what the hell to do before that car door slammed shut on him.

But it was all too fast, too much, too soon. The thing in the kitchen, seeing the spark in his mom’s eye when she asked Reed if this was the one. Those words coming out of his mouth, trying to rebuild the wall around him, brick by brick.

Afraid that if he said yes to his mom, if he said as much as a maybe—if he in any way left the door open that this could be happening, this could be real, he could be…in love…

Then the next thing he knew, it’d be over. It was too fragile to last, too fleeting to hold. He and Talia hadn’t had those kinds of conversations. He hadn’t said those words aloud.

He wasn’t even sure he could.

She needed to understand—he wasn’t like her. He didn’t say things like that. So what if he’d once seduced her with candles, music, wine? He wasn’t that kind of guy, the kind who showed up with roses and knew what to say. The romantic type. Someone who’d gush to his mom about how great she was, or hold her when she needed it. Someone who knew what to say in the moment, who opened his mouth and let the right words come out.

Someone else would have known how to make her stop packing her bag and keep her with him that day. Someone else would have known how to stop her from getting out of the car and slamming the door.

But not him. Never him.

He was just…himself.

If she didn’t like it, if she wanted someone more perfect, less Reed—well. There wasn’t a lot he could do about that.

But as much as he wanted to let it go, he couldn’t. The whole drive back to the city, he kept replaying the scene in his head. The conversation in the car outside the train station, her effort to blink back her tears. His effort not to look at them, to pretend they didn’t exist. And if they did, they had nothing to do with him. Nothing he could do to fix them. No way for him to change.

He’d just felt so cornered, so panicked. By how upset she was. And by how right she was, too. Hadn’t he known sound carried in the house? Hadn’t he heard himself saying those things to his mother, and known he should stop?

But he’d kept doing it anyway. Because they were things he’d needed to say. He’d had to keep his family from hovering around him, thinking this was going to pick up where his relationship with Lisa had left off. Wedding bells, a family, a life shared instead of a life alone.

They didn’t understand that he couldn’t have that. He didn’t want that. He wasn’t like Aaron, settling down. Aaron’s job came with risks, but he was protected. He wasn’t the lead on their cases, and he had no ambitions to move up in the ranks, to make it to lieutenant or even captain one day. He could feel secure about going home to his wife and soon-to-be child and trusting everything would be okay.

But Reed couldn’t stay where he was. His dad had been bigger than that. He had to be bigger, too.

If that meant he had to do it on his own, so be it. His dad may have gone to work every day knowing it was dangerous, it was rough, and there was a real chance he might never come home. But Reed couldn’t do that to someone. Make them wait and wait for him, and put them through that kind of pain. Make them afraid to go to the bodega for lunch, afraid to look over their shoulder, afraid of who might be coming after them.

As city traffic grew heavier, hemming him in, he fiddled with the radio until he gave up on finding anything good and sat there stewing in silence. He was going to drop off the car, go back to his apartment, sit Talia down, and give it to her straight. The simple truth was that he just couldn’t make any promises. He couldn’t plan for the future. If that didn’t work for her, then they had their answer. He wasn’t someone she could be with long-term.

This time together had been wonderful—he’d never deny that. But it wasn’t real life. Talia had to know there were limits to how far this could go. If they weren’t on the same page about their relationship, he was prepared to let her go.

Or at least that was what he told himself as he climbed the stairs to his apartment. That was what he was sure of as he turned the key in the lock and opened the door.

He knew immediately that something was different. It was that sixth sense, the ability to step into a room and read it immediately. His gut screaming inside him, telling him to wake the fuck up.

The couch was clean and tidy, pillows stacked against the arms. No extra shoes thrown by the door. No New York City Ballet water bottle by the sink.

He walked into his bedroom.

No bags on the floor. No suitcase. No tights hanging over his chair.

No clothes piled on the dresser, no books on the nightstand. No second toothbrush in the bathroom next to his.

No makeup. No bobby pins. No lavender shampoo.

He sat on the bed. Kicked off his shoes. Looked at the floor.

He moved like a robot, on autopilot. Like when his dad died, like when Lisa left, and it felt like everything was ending except the days kept coming, one after another, and he had to keep doing things, moving and sleeping and eating and living, even if something inside him had broken and couldn’t be repaired.

He lay down on the bed for a moment, but then he had to get up. He could smell the lavender lingering on the pillow, the sense that she’d been there moments before and would be back any minute now, standing in the doorway, wearing one of his shirts draped over her bare thighs. Grinning at him before she came to bed.

He knew that in some way, he’d asked for this. He’d said it wasn’t serious. He’d acted like it didn’t matter one way or another if she stayed.

But there in the sudden emptiness of his apartment, everything felt different.

He pulled out his phone. He thought about calling her, texting her, telling her to come back.

He got as far as pulling up her number and froze. The same feeling washed over him as in the car. What would he say? What would he do?

What did he even want out of this, anyway?

He got up, put the phone back in his pocket, and paced around the living room, agitated, too twisted around to think. His eyes landed on a stack of files he’d been avoiding—notes from the Jonnie West case, pictures, details. All the evidence he was supposed to be studying, trying to make a connection. Trying to figure out how to nab West and his crew.

He picked up the files. His fingers were itchy. Everything in him felt jumpy, unsure.

But he knew how to do one thing. He knew how to put his head down and work.

It was Sunday night. He’d been off all weekend with no expectation that he’d be in until the next morning. Aaron was home with Maggie, no doubt unwinding after the weekend. The office would be empty. No one was expecting him there.

But that was all the more reason to do it, to show he was dedicated and putting this case above anything else. To get a head start on Monday and hit the ground running when the week came.

He picked up his keys, put his shoes back on, and left the apartment without a backward glance. He didn’t want to see the empty couch or the place where Talia used to leave her shoes. Once, it had felt like her things were an intrusion, taking up space in his life. Now, he could feel the loneliness everywhere. He didn’t need to turn around to let it smack him in the face.

He had work to do. He had his own life, one that didn’t—couldn’t—include her.

She’d made her choice. There was nothing left to talk about, nothing more to explain.

He couldn’t even be upset as he headed to the subway to catch the train downtown. He was alone, but that was how it was supposed to be.

It sucked for now. But it was better that way, and he knew it. He’d let his head go just this once. He wasn’t going to forget it again.