Page 81 of Playing for Payback


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"That was quite a statement," she says once we're alone, her tone caught between clinical and concerned. "Let me see."

Her fingers are cool against my skin as she gently probes my mouth. I wince when she hits a tender spot.

"Nothing broken," she declares after a moment. "But you're going to have a bruise." She steps back, creating distance between us. "What happened?"

"Adam happened," I say, the words coming out sharper than I intended. "He was running his mouth."

"About what?" she asks quietly.

"About us. Him and me. You and me." I sigh, the anger draining away, leaving only a bone-deep weariness. "Doesn't matter. I shouldn't have hit him."

"No, you shouldn't have." Her voice is soft but firm. "That's going to be all over social media in about five minutes."

"Add it to my list of poor decisions lately." I meet her eyes, finding them unreadable in the dim hallway lighting. "How's the new place?"

She seems startled by the question. "It's... fine. Small, but functional."

"Good." I don't know what else to say. There's so much and nothing at all.

We stand in awkward silence for a moment, both aware of how different this is from the easy intimacy we shared just days ago. She's so close I can smell her perfume, the same scent that lingered on my pillows this morning.

"You look beautiful," I say finally because it's true andbecause I can't help but say it. That dress... it's perfect on you."

A blush spreads across her cheeks. "Thank you."

I step closer, unable to help myself. "Lena, I?—"

"We should get back," she interrupts, taking a deliberate step backward. "People will talk."

"Let them," I say, the words escaping before I can stop them.

She shakes her head, a sad smile on her lips. "That's the problem, Alder. They already are."

She turns to go, but I gently catch her wrist. "I miss you," I admit, the words raw and honest. "I miss you in my house. In my bed. I miss waking up with you."

Her expression softens, vulnerability breaking through her professional mask. "I miss you too," she whispers. "But missing each other doesn't change anything."

"Doesn't it?" I ask, still holding her wrist, feeling her pulse race beneath my fingers. "If we both feel the same way?—"

"We can't, Alder." She pulls her hand from my grasp. "I'm sorry about your jaw. Ice it when you get home. Twenty minutes on, twenty off."

And then she's gone, back through the door to the gala, leaving me alone in the hallway with the phantom sensation of her touch still lingering on my skin and the certainty that whatever I felt for her before she left, it's only grown stronger in her absence.

CHAPTER 29

LENA

Nightin the new apartment drags on for ages. Every unfamiliar creak and hum keeps me from sleep, the strange shadows on unfamiliar walls playing tricks on my tired eyes. The bed—a hastily purchased foam mattress from the internet so I didn’t have to sleep on something Brad touched—feels too firm, too empty.

At Alder's, I'd grown accustomed to sharing space with him and Gordie. The warmth of another body, the dog’s gentle snoring at our feet. Even the guest bed there was the perfect firmness. The sense of safety and comfort I never realized I was missing until I had it.

Now, I'm alone again in a studio that feels both too small and too vast.

When my alarm finally buzzes at six, I've gotten maybe three hours of fitful sleep. I heave myself into the shower—a lackluster trickle compared to Alder's luxurious rainfall showerhead and missing the warm company of his beautiful body—and try to wash away the memory of last night's gala.

Of Alder's face when I examined his jaw, the hurt in his eyes that had nothing to do with physical pain.

Of the quiet "I miss you" still echoing in my head. It’s even more painful knowing Alder is under attack for his sexuality.My instincts scream at me to comfort him, defend him. Part of me fears I contributed to that unfair treatment by participating in the schemes that led Adam to take such nasty actions.