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“Too late.”

“Kali, focus. This isn’t a bad thing.”

Heat prickles at my chest, spreading across my skin to my neck. “It doesn’t feel like agoodthing-”

“Hey Jonesy! I didn’t know you’d be here.”

We turn to see the man of my dreams and nightmares walking through the new front door. The soundproofing on the new frame blocked out the sound of his truck, giving me zero warning. Zero chance to prepare for my visceral reaction to seeing his painted arms contorting in the setting sunlight as he walks in. No way to ready myself for the dimple in his chin or his high cheekbones or his cheeky grin.

I have no chance to steady myself.

My newfound discovery about my goddamned feelings made me forget Anthony was coming by tonight.

But why wouldn’t he be here? He’s here every night, because you spend all your time together.

I’m having a breakdown.

Anthony smiles brightly at Hazel, before his gaze lands on me. He gives me a small wink and I want to melt into a puddle.

“Great timing, Anthony,” Hazel says, breaking through my stupor. “I was here to finish up measurements for the signage. I’m just leaving.”

My mouth drops open to stop her, but she shoots me a glare so fierce I stop myself.

“Good seeing you, Jonesy,” he says with a lazy smile.

Hazel departs quickly and we’re alone. Which isn’t unusual, but suddenly it’s all I can focus on. Anthony doesn’t seem to notice my internal combustion.

“I’m secretly glad she’s gone. I’ve got something for you,” he says, backing towards the door again. “Wait here.”

I barely nod, frozen to the spot as I wait for him.

He returns moments later, heaving a massive piece of timber through the door. He leans it up against the wall and stands back.

“What do you think?” Anthony beams at me, his arms outstretched towards the wooden carving.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

It’s bigger than Patrick’s enormous plasma television, a thick base of timber layered with intricate designs and carvings. The patterns twirl and lace together to create the most perfectly balanced and symmetrical mandala design I have ever seen.

“I thought maybe you could hang it above the couch,” he suggests, waving to the blank space on the wall of the waiting area.

I can barely process the wonder of the art or the excitement on Anthony’s face, because the noise in my ears is deafening. The constriction in my throat is unbearable. I reach my hand around my neck, battling an inexplicable panic creeping up my spine.

“The look on your face says you’re not as stoked about this as I thought you’d be.” Anthony is watching me, his brows furrowed with concern.

“I’m never going to be Chloe.”

Anthony visibly recoils. “What?”

Ash fills my mouth. “Stop trying to repent or fix whatever issues you have with me. I’m not Chloe.”

Anthony scoffs with disbelief. “Iknowyou’re not.”

“Are you sure about that?” Blood rushes to my ears, rage surges through my veins. “Because ever since I met you, it’s like you’re trying to project your past onto me.”

Anthony’s surprise is evident by his raised eyebrows. “Wow.”

A heavy silence falls between us and the need to claw out of my skin suffocates me. I have to get out of here.