Space (Laws of Physics #2)(55)

I stared at her.

I stared at her, and stared at her, and stared at her. I stared at her and I worked to keep my balance, because the floor and the earth moved beneath my feet. The cavern opened and stretched in front of me. I stared at her and I was afraid, because I knew.

My whole life, from this point forward, I would be a fool for Mona DaVinci.





13





Atomic Physics





*Abram*





“Have you slept?”

Startled, my head snapped up and my neck protested, stars flaring in my vision. I winced.

“You haven’t slept.” Kaitlyn sounded concerned, and when she came into focus, she looked concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I said, my voice gravelly, and tested my neck. Slowly, I stretched it. Once I was sure it was fine, I stood from the desk, blinked at the room, at the sunlight filtering in through the windows, and I stretched my back.

Kaitlyn wore a frown of intense concern and I realized at once what was bothering her. “I only had the one drink, okay? I didn’t get drunk.”

My friend’s forehead cleared of concern, obviously she’d been thinking I was hungover. “Sorry. I don’t mean to hover. But when you left and didn’t say where you were going . . .”

“No need to say sorry.” I twisted at the waist, waving away her apology. Kaitlyn had seen the tail end of my downward spiral. She’d been a major source of support for me, helping me climb out of the hole I’d dug for myself. She’d seen me drunk. And when I was drunk, I was disorderly. “Do you know what time it is?”

Her attention moved between me and the open notebook on the desk. “It’s just past seven. Have you been up all night writing?”

I nodded, yawning, abruptly feeling the lack of sleep. “I had no idea.”

“What?”

“That is was so late.”

“You mean early.” She smiled, but then it vanished, and she leaned a shoulder against the doorframe. “I’m glad you’ve been writing.”

“Me too.” I glanced at the lines I’d been working on for the last hour. Or maybe for the last several hours.

“Abram,” she said softly, but there was a note of concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“About Mona.”

Without looking up, I sighed, and then I laughed, shaking my head. “I don’t know where to start.”

I felt her eyes move over me before she asked, “Start with when you met her originally. Did Leo introduce you?”

I continued shaking my head. “No. Leo didn’t—doesn’t—know.”

How Leo would react to the news of Mona and me—our past or the potential for our future—was anyone’s guess. I’d seen him lose his shit with an acquaintance of ours who’d said that Lisa was “fucking hot.” But then I’d also witnessed yesterday how he’d worried about Charlie’s interest in Mona, like Charlie was the one who needed protecting.

The sound of the door closing brought my eyes up and I watched Kaitlyn march over to one of the leather armchairs by the window. She motioned to the other. “Please. Sit.”

I lifted an eyebrow at her. “Is this a therapy session?”

“No,” she said, sitting. “It’s a I’m worried about my friend, Abram session.”

“Really?” I shoved my hands in my pockets, taking my time, strolling to the chair across from her. “Shouldn’t you be happy? I’m writing again.”

“When was the last time you wrote like this? Staying up all night?” she asked, challenge in her voice. “Was it, perhaps, the last time you saw Mona?”

That earned her a frown. “How did you . . .”

“You said to me once that your ex had messed with your head, made you think you were crazy. But you’d never been more inspired—or written so much in such a short time—than when you had been with her.”

“It’s not what you think. Mona didn’t—” I huffed, pulling a hand through my hair and scratching the crown of my head. I’d taken it out of its binding at some point last night and now it was driving me crazy, getting in my face. “She didn’t do anything—”

“You forget, I was there.”

That stopped me. We stared at each other.

Her gray eyes looked silver this morning, in the sunlight reflecting off the snow. “I was there to see the after, the crater left by meteor-Mona, if you will.”

My jaw working, I slid my teeth to the side and finally sat in the chair across from her. “You seemed to like her just fine last night.”

“Oh, I do like her. I still like her, as an impressive person, as a genius astrophysicist, a public figure. But is she good enough for my friend?” Kaitlyn shrugged.

I’d never spoken to anyone about Mona other than Kaitlyn. Even then, I’d spoken in generalities. I’d never given her a name, or told our story.

“Fine. I’ll allow it. What do you want to say? You think I should steer clear?”

She shrugged again, this time with her shoulders, her face, and her hands folded in her lap. “I honestly have no idea. If you want my advice, you’re going to have to tell me the whole story, not just vague bits and pieces.”