Page 18 of Venus

My apartment smells like bold, citrusy shampoo. It smells like her .

And I fucking love it.

I know she only agreed to sleep here for a few nights while her apartment door gets repaired, but the way I felt when I woke up this morning, knowing she was here, knowing she would stay?

It’s magical. Surreal. I never want it to end.

She’s sitting at my tiny round table near the kitchen, sipping on a Redbull. The sunlight filters through the blinds and curtains, casting the floor and her bare shoulders in pretty golden lines.

This is the kind of morning peace that you never want to end.

“Want some pancakes?” I ask, already reaching for the mix in the pantry. She hums and nods back. I flip on the TV to watch the morning news, and she raises her head from the daily crossword puzzle on her phone to watch the coverage .

Breaking News! The infamous East Coast billionaire Christian Reeves and his wife Elena were found shot to death in their home this morning, along with both of Mrs. Reeves’ parents.

Preliminary police reports believe this to be the result of a triple-murder suicide, but details are unclear on which individual is responsible. The MCPD has been keeping this case very tightly guarded while they investigate.

The Reeves’ recently adopted a child, who we can confirm was found safe in the home by the family’s private chef, who has not agreed to any interviews and refuses to comment on what he saw inside the home.

The fate of the Reeves Empire remains unknown, and stock prices have plummeted due to investor uncertainty–

“Jesus. I’ve seen some things, but I can’t even imagine,” I say, mindlessly flipping the golden brown pancakes onto a plate and coating them with syrup.

That’s the thing about working in a job like firefighting or nursing…you sorta grow numb to that kind of violence or tragedy after a while. You get a few that stick with you, but otherwise you just learn to say ‘that’s terrible’ and continue eating breakfast.

It’s mostly just background noise for me this time, but V seems more upset the longer she watches the footage of the red, white and blue lights surrounding that mansion.

She seems to enter another dimension, her eyes absorbing the pictures on the screen but her mind racing a million miles a minute.

I don’t interrupt her, just watch her face twist and turn with whatever emotions she’s trying to work through.

“That poor baby wakes up and her whole world is just…gone,” she murmurs, her pancakes now cold and untouched.

I don’t answer. What am I supposed to say?

Of course I can’t imagine it. I’ve pulled kids out of cars, dragged them through smoke, held the hands of ones who tearfully waited for parents who will never come back, but my life—my world—always kept turning.

How is a kid that young even supposed to understand what’s happening, let alone know how to process the grief that takes up residence in their lives uninvited?

Venus keeps watching the screen. “This is just another reason I won’t commit,” she says. She lets it out so easily, like there’s not a man who adores her sitting across the table right now. “When I die, I hope no one mourns me.”

That feels like a dagger in my chest. She hates a part of herself she lost so long ago. She hates it so much that she almost wishes for loneliness. Begs for it.

I wish there was something I could say to change her mind, but even if I could, now isn’t the right time. She wouldn’t respond well to words, and I hate the way her shoulders sag as she tries to convince herself she’s really unworthy of love—of even being grieved.

Without thinking, I lean over and kiss her temple. Soft. Quick. Not even romantic. Not anything other than a gesture of comfort .

She flinches like I’ve just slapped her, and I know in that very instant, that I’ve made a mistake.

She stills, and her body turns toward me. Not in a soft way or an inviting way, but like I’ve stumbled into a tripwire and alerted her to danger.

She says nothing, just stands up and walks to my room. When she hears my chair scrape across the floor she waves at me, still facing away.

“Just give me a second,” she says, completely void of any emotion—not even anger or panic. Just…nothing.

“I’m sorry…I was just—”

“I know. I know you didn’t mean anything by it.” She finally turns to face me and crosses her arms over her chest, visibly uncomfortable. “But the problem is that you did. You wanted to. You needed to. We can’t…we can’t keep doing this. This was always supposed to be just sex, remember?”

“It’s never been just sex to me, and I think you know that. I wasn’t trying to cross a line, but I care about you, V. Why won’t you let me?”

“What makes you think I want or need you to care about me? You don’t even know my name.”

“Fuck. Seriously? I get that I stepped over the line, but you have no right to choose who I do and don’t care about.”

She completely ignores me and motions between us with her hands.

“This thing between us, whatever we’ve been doing, needs to go back to casual.

I’ve always been honest about what I’ve wanted out of this and I let you get too close and I’m sorry.

But this” she motions between us again, “is not happening. It’s never going to happen. ”

I stand there, my chest aching with hurt. I never expected her to be so…cruel. I don’t even know what to say anymore. I rub my face, and she disappears into my room and emerges a few minutes later with her bag.

“I forgot I promised Callie I’d do some stuff with her today. I should go.”

She doesn’t even have the courage to look at me when she walks out, and I don’t bother trying to stop her.

I simply say, “be safe” under my breath, and then she’s gone.

My apartment has never felt so hollow. Pancakes untouched. The TV is still playing news coverage, but I don’t hear it anymore.

Maybe I shouldn’t have kissed her. Maybe comforting her wasn’t my job. Maybe a part of me did want to cross a line just to see how she would react.

But this isn’t even about romance or our future. It’s watching someone I care about shoulder a burden on her shoulders I’m willing to share with her.

I can only hope that this distance she’s put between us is temporary, because I don’t want to imagine my world without her in it.