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ā€œNow isnā€™t a good time,ā€ Sloane said, avoiding my eyes. ā€œI have a lot of work to do.ā€

ā€œOn the Sunday after Christmas?ā€ Silence.

I rubbed a hand over my face, trying to piece together the right words in the right way. There were a thousand things I wanted to tell her, but in the end, I opted for simple and honest.

ā€œSloane, I didnā€™t mean what I said last week,ā€ I said softly. ā€œAbout you having no emotions. I was frustrated and upset, and I took it out on you.ā€

ā€œI know.ā€

I faltered; I hadnā€™t expected that. ā€œYou do?ā€

ā€œYes,ā€ Sloane said stiffly. She went a teeny bit pink around her ears. ā€œI should apologize too. I shouldnā€™t have pushed you so hard right after the fire. That wasā€¦that wasnā€™t what you needed at the time.ā€

ā€œYou were just trying to help.ā€ I cleared my throat, still feeling ill at ease. ā€œAnd Iā€™m sorry for not reaching out on Christmas. Honestly, I was too ashamed to just call you like nothing had happened, and I figured you wouldnā€™t want to discuss the fire during the holidayā€¦ā€ It wasnā€™t the best excuse, but none of my recent actions could be classified as smart.

ā€œYou werenā€™t the only one who didnā€™t reach out. Itā€™s a two-way street.ā€ Sloane slid her pendant along its chain.

ā€œMaybe we can have a belated celebration,ā€ I said. ā€œThe ice rinks are still open.ā€

ā€œMaybe.ā€ She was so quiet, I almost didnā€™t hear her.

I paused, trying to paint why this whole thing felt wrong. At first glance, we were on the same page. Iā€™d apologized, sheā€™d apologized, everything was great. So why was tension still hanging over us like a storm cloud? Why wasnā€™t Sloane meeting my eyes? Why did she sound so fucking sad?

The only thing I could think of wasā€¦

No. A surge of panic seized my limbs, but I covered my suspicions with a forced smile. ā€œSo weā€™re okay. I know we have a lot of stuff to figure out regarding the club, but you and me, weā€™re okay?ā€

I searched her face for a hint, any hint, that she agreed.

I didnā€™t find it, and when she opened her mouth, a part of me already knew what she was going to say.

ā€œXavierā€¦ā€

ā€œDonā€™t.ā€ I clenched my jaw. ā€œItā€™s not time yet.ā€

ā€œOur trial period ends in two days.ā€ Sloaneā€™s eyes finally met mine, and it was like looking at a sea of stars in the night sky. They gave the illusion they were within reach, but if I extended my hand and tried to grasp those fleeting emotions, theyā€™d slide through my fingers like whispered taunts. ā€œWhat happens then?ā€

ā€œThen we end the trial and start dating for real.ā€ I didnā€™t bother playing coy. ā€œThatā€™s what I want, Luna. Tell me thatā€™s not what you want too.ā€

I didnā€™t know a lot of things, but I knew her. I knew she had feelings for me. Iā€™d tasted them in her kiss, heard them in her laughs, felt them in the way sheā€™d pressed her body to mine. They werenā€™t the hallucinations of a man in love; they were real, and Iā€™d be damned if I let them slip away.

But when Sloane straightened her shoulders and her expression cooled, I had a sneaking suspicion that the feelings Iā€™d thought would bring us closer would end up being the very things that drove her away.

ā€œI didnā€™t want to do this today, but since youā€™re here, we might as well.ā€ Her knuckles whitened around the doorknob. ā€œWe had fun; Iā€™m not denying that. But our trial period is all but over and we wonā€™tā€¦ā€ She swallowed. ā€œWe wonā€™t work in the long term.ā€

A strange roar erupted in my ears. ā€œWhat are you saying?ā€ I asked quietly.

I knew exactly what she meant, but I wanted to hear it from her mouth. I wasnā€™t giving her an easy way out on this.

ā€œIā€™m saying thereā€™s no extension.ā€ Sloaneā€™s mouth wavered for a split second before firming. ā€œI want to break up.ā€

I was freezing.

The heater was running at full strength, but goosebumps coated my arms and legs, and the doorknob felt like ice in my hand.

Or maybe the cold was coming from the hallway, where Xavier stood still as a winter night, his face carved with shock.

As I watched, the sharp edges hardened into determination, and he shook his head. ā€œNo.ā€

I closed my eyes, wishing I were anywhere but here, that his plea through the door hadnā€™t weakened my defenses so much Iā€™d abandoned my original plan to break up with him over the phone. That wouldnā€™t have been the bravest thing to do, but it was preferable a dozen times over to witnessing Xavierā€™s hurt disbelief in person.

I opened my eyes again and steeled my resolve against the voice banging inside my head, screaming donā€™t do this.

I had to. If we didnā€™t break up now, weā€™d have to break up someday, and Iā€™d rather cut ties before I was in too deep.

Youā€™re already in too deep, the voice snarled.

I ignored it.

ā€œDonā€™t make this any harder than it has to be,ā€ I said. ā€œThe terms were clear. We date for two months, then decide whether weā€™re going to work. Well, those two months are over, and Iā€™ve decided we wonā€™t.ā€

ā€œYou decided. I remember you saying something about this being a two-way street.ā€ Xavierā€™s cold stillness fell away and revealed a blaze of emotion in his eyes. ā€œGive me a good reason why we wonā€™t work.ā€

ā€œWeā€™re too different.ā€

ā€œThat wasnā€™t a problem when we were dating. Opposites have long-term relationships all the time, Luna. Itā€™s not a deal-breaker.ā€

ā€œIt is for us.ā€ Something large and jagged had taken up residence in my throat, and every word scraped painfully on its way out. ā€œIā€™m not meant for long-term relationships, okay? I get bored. Things donā€™t work out. What we have is already complicated because we work together, and itā€™s easier for both of us if we break up before weā€™re forced to.ā€

Iā€™d rehearsed my speech a hundred times over the past two days, but it rang as false now as it had the first time.

I did have a good reason for why we wouldnā€™t work, but I couldnā€™t tell him because I was terrifiedā€”of him, of this, of us.

He wouldnā€™t knowingly hurt me, not right now, but if I gave him an inch, heā€™d take a mile. Iā€™d succumb to his promises, his power over me would solidify, and one day, Iā€™d wake up and realize he could break me into more pieces than anyone else. His offhanded comment, delivered in the heat of the moment last week, had sent me reeling. What would happen if he tried?

Everything was fine during the honeymoon phase of a relationship, but that phase had to end eventually, and I refused to leave myself vulnerable when that happened.

No matter how much it hurt in the short term, breaking up was the best thing to do in the long term.

ā€œForced?ā€ Xavierā€™s eyes flashed at my reply. ā€œWhoā€™s going to force us, Sloane? Your family, our friends, the world? They can all fuck themselves.ā€

ā€œStop. This is the smartā€”ā€

ā€œI donā€™t give a damn about smart. I give a damn about us and the fact youā€™re lying to me.ā€

Heat seared my cheeks and chased away the bone-rattling cold. ā€œI am not lying,ā€ I snapped, trying to hide the waver in my voice. ā€œDo you remember when we ran into Mark at the restaurant? You said he couldnā€™t take a hint. Donā€™t repeat his mistake.ā€

Are sens