Page 79 of Fractured Future

I need to know why.

And I’m done being patient.

As I’m throwing on my running shoes in the hallway, the door clicks open with a loud buzz from the security system. Tom stumbles in, wearing his usual tailored suit and carrying a box of files.

“Oh, Em. Little help here?”

Rushing towards him, I wrestle the heavy box from his grip. “Did you lug this all the way home?”

“I had my assistant deliver it downstairs,” he grunts, dropping his leather laptop bag. “So technically, only up four flights of stairs.”

“You really need to start working out again.”

“Probably,” he admits through pants. “Between work, Jamie, life… I dunno, it never seems like a priority.”

“Well, you’re not getting any younger. Gotta keep up that cardiovascular health.”

“Oh, thanks,” Tom says sarcastically. “You’ve hit the big thirty yourself now. So watch it.”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.”

Placing the box down on the floor, I roll my shoulders to relieve the slight twinge the weight created in my spine. While my injuries are healing up, I still get stiff.

“Are you going out?” Tom looks me over.

“I’m gonna take a run.” I try for a placating smile. “Get some air.”

His furrowed brows communicate his disapproval.

“I have security. I’ll be fine.”

“Well… Hyland is still parked outside glowering at everyone who walks past.” He sighs through his nose. “Fine, but make sure you take him with you.”

“Like I have a choice.”

Reaching to tug my ponytail, Tom studies my face. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Just need to get out of here.”

Shucking off his suit jacket, he hangs it with the other coats and jackets next to the front door. While June has arrived with infrequent bursts of heat, the weather remains unpredictable.

“What did you do today?”

“Just hung out.” I shrug listlessly. “Did some stretches. Watched some stupid dating show.”

“Since when do you watch reality TV? You hate that shit.”

“Since I’ve been declared a prisoner of your apartment building?” I joke flatly. “My life and business are gone, Tom. I have nothing else to do and nowhere to go.”

“I’m sorry. That was insensitive.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Sympathy invades his expression, and it turns my stomach. It’s no secret that I’m mourning the destruction of my entire existence while I was gone. But I don’t want nor need his pity.

“I know you’re bored out of your mind, Em.”

Shrugging, I finish lacing up my running shoes. “What was your first clue?”