A WEEK LATER, I set a framed picture of me and Hazel on the bookshelf in my room. I was fine with moving into a room that was basically empty except for the bed and dresser, but over the past week, furniture kept arriving. I wasn’t even here when this bookshelf showed up—it just appeared, put together, this morning after I got home from Daisy’s walk.
My stomach flutters. I know he put it together.
He’s almost never here. Sometimes, I hear the front door open when he gets home late. Daisy sleeps in my room every night, but she likes to greet him when he gets home, so I crack the door and let her run out, but I don’t say hi because I want to give him space.
In my room, I slide my guitar case out from under the bed to make room for a box. I’m about to push it back under when I hesitate. My hands linger on the case before I snap it open.
My guitar gleams at me, and my heart twists. I love this thing, and now I’m shoving it away to collect dust. I reach out and pluck a string.
The last time I played was in front of Zach and his manager on the tour. I didn’t even want his manager there, but Zach pulled him in, and they listened while I played the skeleton of a song I’d been working on. Even back in high school, I loved writing music.
Deep down, I dreamed of having a career like Zach’s.
When they smiled at me after, in that condescending way, I actually chuckled with them to hide my embarrassment. The worst part was that until that moment, I thought I had what it took to make music my career. I can sing, I can play guitar, and I can write music. I always wanted to write an album, even if just to see if I could.
The marketing job is going to be so much easier in the end. No one gets their heart broken over a desk job.
There’s a noise at my bedroom door, and I inhale sharply. Jamie’s standing there, frowning at me.
“Jesus.” I snap the guitar case shut and slide it under the bed. “You scared me. I didn’t hear you get home.”
He frowns harder. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
His gaze flicks down to the edge of the guitar case sticking out from under the bed, and he looks like he wants to ask me something, but before he can say anything, I stand.
“I was just about to take Daisy out. I’ll be out for a while to give you some space.” I breeze past him, and my pulse is still whistling through my veins.
I wish I didn’t have this reaction to him. To him, I’m probably like a gnat—tiny, insignificant, and slightly annoying. The way he frowns every time I’m around tells me everything I need to know.
I head downstairs to get Daisy ready to go, and as I clip her leash and harness on, Jamie walks into the living room, crossing his arms over his chest, watching. His presence in the apartment is intense—he’s towering and broad, and his green eyes make my skin prickle, they’re so sharp. Our eyes meet and I smile nervously, trying to summon that version of myself who demanded her job back and called him a dickhead.
“I’ve been taking her to the dog park near here,” I tell him. If I act like I’m unaffected by him, maybe my body will get the hint. “There’s this guy who has a dog who looks a lot like Daisy. They like to play together. I think his name is Andrew.”
I’m rambling as I pull my shoes on. I can’t seem to get my nerves under control around this guy.
“Andrew.” He says the word like it tastes bad.
I meet his piercing gaze, blinking in confusion. “Yeah. He’s young. Probably my age. He’s a personal trainer.”
Jamie’s gaze turns cold before he prowls to the door. “I’m coming with you.”
My lips part in surprise as he yanks his shoes on. “You don’t have to. I know you’re probably tired.” He usually has a nap at this time, exhausted from practice.
“I’m not tired.” He pulls his jacket out of the closet and slips it on before taking the leash from my hand. “I’m sore, and I need to move. Let’s go.”
Before I can protest, he opens the door and gestures for me to step into the hall.
