“Ax!” I exclaim.
“What? He’s not my brother or best friend. I’ll happily do it.”
“Well, he is mine.”
“Sooo… You’re gonna beat his ass then? I have a new knife you can borrow. It’s in my coat. Custom blade and grip too.”
“No ass beating! No knives!” I flap my hands around with increasing dismay. “For fuck’s sake.”
Axel’s honeyed eyes roll in outrage. “You’re so dull.”
“Better to be dull than fucking insane.”
“See, that’s where we disagree.”
Shoving his shoulder, I decide to face the music rather than put it off. Tom and I haven’t spoken since I left his apartment, and the silence has been excruciating. But hell if I was going to be the one to break it.
Ditching my cold coffee, I limp over to Tom’s slumped-over state. He quickly slips his phone away to train his tired focus on me.
“Hi,” he offers warily.
“Hey.”
Looking over me, Tom summons a minuscule attempt at a smile. “It’s good to see you.”
“Can I help you with something?”
He shuffles his feet, appearing awkward. “I was hoping we could talk.”
“I wanted to talk the last time we saw each other. All you did was yell.”
“No more yelling.” Tom surrenders by showing me his palms. “I promise.”
“Why should I believe that?”
Face folding in visible pain, his eyes are pleading. “I heard the news. I’m here for you, Em. Nothing else.”
Taking a moment to debate his motives, I decide to steer him out into the corridor for some privacy. Tom follows close behind me as I head for Sabre’s empty changing room a few doors down.
“So talk.” I wave towards him.
Resting against a bank of shiny silver lockers, he averts his eyes while I change into fresh leggings. It hurts my head to bend and yank them up, but I suck it up.
“I want to apologise for the things I said. And I intend to apologise to the others too.”
“You were a complete dick, Tom.”
“I’m aware of that,” he agrees wholeheartedly. “Throwing the past in their faces was unfair.”
“You know Warner has been through hell.”
“I know. I’ll make it right.”
Throwing a plain white t-shirt over my sports bra, I sit down to brace my palms on my knees. I need a moment to rest. My vision is hazy at the corners.
Moving to crouch in front of me, Tom clasps my forearms. His fingers graze my brand, causing discomfort to slither up my spine. It takes great effort to look up and meet his eyes.
“Let’s talk about this, Em.”
