Page 2 of Erik

“Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just crunch time, and I hate crunch time.” My complaining wasn’t anything Marshal hadn’t heard already, and I picked up another grape as he pushed off the counter. “Does Fred know you’re back?”

“No. I just came in here for a drink before I head over. I’m meeting with Kyle in a couple hours to go over all our social media information.” Shuffling away as he strode the short distance to the fridge, I nodded as foreboding gnawed deep into my gut. “How much do you still have to go?”

“A couple thousand lines. It’ll be fine.” Ignoring how daunting it really was, I waved a hand in dismissal, and Marshal shot me a dubious look.

2

Natasha

My eyelids pried open, and I sucked in a sharp, deep breath as a shiver slid down my spine. Staring dazedly at the ceiling through the gloom, a cold sweat layered thickly on my skin, and my toes curled as I stretched my legs experimentally. Quiet. So quiet. I listened, but there was nothing to hear, and the stale air in my lungs escaped with a gust. The vestige of my nightmare clung to the edges of my vision as I rolled to turn on a lamp, and the dark bedroom flooded with a dim, gold light.

“God, I thought I was over this.” Holding my forehead in my clammy palm, my murmur echoed in the still room, and I propped my elbow on my knee to sigh. My heart still thundered, blood drumming in my ears, and my abdomen and jaw ached from being clenched tight.

All that therapy wasted on the one thing I wanted most.

“What thefu-u-uck. . . ” Throwing the sheet off me, I stood up to scowl at the wet, vague outline of a person who stained the fitted, silky material. Rubbing my eyes roughly, I rolled my jaw and stretched, but it did nothing to ease the tension balled up in my lower back. Rather than deal with this, I just walked out in my sticky pajama shorts and a crop top, and my knees wobbled on the way to the kitchen.

Maybe, it’s because Valerie wasn’t sleeping in the other room, so I didn’t have to worry about her hearing me anymore. Maybe, it was because she was doing so well, and it was a huge weight off me that kept everything else down.

Passing the kitchen, I opened the front door and stepped into the hallway to stare at the neutral walls and feel the overrun carpet under my feet. My hair stuck to my neck and shoulders, but I couldn’t summon the energy to peel it back as I shuffled forward. At night, these halls were just as lifeless— only Carlyle and his personal staff lived here, and most of his workers commuted.

Managing to walk halfway to the elevator, I realized that I had nowhere to go, and I leaned on the wall to slide down to my butt. Pulling my knees to my chin, I wrapped my arms around myself and closed my eyes to heave a massive sigh. My brain didn’t work to try to think up a distraction, but it didn’t conjure images I’d rather not focus on, either.

Which was okay, I suppose.

I mean, what could I think of any way? I had no friends, my sister was in love, and I hated my job . . . not that I’d ever tell Valerie. She was the one with the talent, so I had to find something to do that could support her. Everyone knew that those with talent rarely struck it big right out of the gate, and coding was good money.

At least I was good enough at it not to get saddled with student loan debt. The whole point of convincing Valerie to go to a different college was so she didn’t find out how much I despised coding. Even though I didn’t struggle with it, there were so many other things I wanted to do, but I couldn’t because she was the artist, and she was more important.

Even so, I didn’t know what any of those ‘other things’ were anymore.

“Natasha?” Groaning at the interruption, I frowned up at Illya as she crouched in front of me, her pretty face a mask of concern. “You okay?”

“I kinda wanna die, but . . . whatever.” If she thought I sounded impudent, Illya’s dark green eyes didn’t betray her, and she sat down next to me as I huffed. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“We don’t have to talk about it . . . whatever ‘it’ is. I was actually on my way out to the store. Sometimes, I can’t stand being cooped up in this place.” Humming softly, goosebumps washed my arms, and I tightened my grip on myself as bitterness coated my tongue. “Did you wanna come with? I like to drive really fast, though.”

“What time is it?” She pulled out a cell phone from her shirt, and I winced when Illya read the time. Two-fourteen a.m. There was absolutely no point in trying to go back to sleep. I had to get to the conference room by seven, and . . . “Yeah, I’ll come with. Why not.”

“You wanna get dressed, or . . . I mean, it’s like ten degrees out.” Shaking my head, I hauled myself up to stand and glanced down at myself. I looked like I’d just detoxed off something bad, but I honestly didn’t care at that moment. After all, the only stores open at two a.m. were friggen Walmart and CVS— hardly anything to get dressed up for. “Okay. Do you wanna at least put some shoes on?”

“I guess I should.” But did Ireallywanna go all the way back down the hall, into my apartment, and grab my boots by the door? Standing up, Illya watched me patiently as I gazed down the way I’d come, and it was exhausting just thinking about it. “You know, Illya, we got drunk together a couple times, right? So, basically . . . I think I’m moving backward again.”

“Okay.” That was some right logic there, and Illya nodded as I started to slowly drag my feet toward my apartment. “What happened?”

“I know I’m not supposed to, but . . . like, Valerie’s happy, and I hate it. I hate my job. I hate this place. I hate working. I just wanna curl into a ball in a hole and wither away.” Guilt clawed at the back of my throat, and my eyes stung at the veracity of my own declarations. “God damnit, I hate that I hate this shit. I havenothinganymore, and finding something is so . . . so . . . so daunting.”

“Weren’t you gonna open an Airbnb with those properties? So, it’s not like you have to work on that app or whatever it was.” Groaning in frustration, I ran my palms down my face and stumbled under the weight of it all.

“I did. That’s not the problem. I told them I would, and now I don’t want to. It seemed like the only damn choice at the time— we were all jobless, and yada-yada, bullshit, whatever.” My voice lowered as I struggled to walk and talk at the same time, and my whisper filled the hallway. “I can’t just back out now. That’s not fair.”

“Ah, yeah, that sucks. Valerie’s not supposed to be back for another week. I just talked to Theo about an hour ago. He was scowling . . . I could tell.” Illya’s voice shone with her smile and knowing Theo had no other facial expression, I sort of understood. With that scar on his face, it wasn’t surprising, and I glanced over at her warily. “We should go get something greasy.”

My door was unlocked, and I pushed it open to stuff my feet in my boots without replying. If I ate something, I was pretty sure I’d throw up. Going out with Illya wasn’t going to stop the blackness eating away at the edges of my mind. Glancing past the corner of the short hallway, I frowned at the silhouettes of furniture and slight glimmer of shiny surfaces.

None of this stuff was mine. I didn’t even have anything but my clothes. While it wasn’t necessarily Carlyle’s fault that Valerie got sent afucking bomb. . .

“I don’t know. I feel terrible for being so unhappy, and that makes me more unhappy, and . . . ” Shutting the door behind me, I scuffed my heel against the carpet as I ran out of words to describe how I was feeling. Valerie was mywhole life, and I didn’t know what to do with myself now that she didn’t need me as much. Honestly, it was pathetic, but there were only so many ways to describe this bitterness and guilt. “I thought it’d be great, but it’s not. Not for me, at least.”