The Lineup(107)

I give my desk a final once-over and then stand from my chair, just as a tall figure walks into my office.

I stumble back for a second, startled, until I realize it’s Jason. My heart sinks to my stomach, and my breath escapes me from the mere sight of him.

He’s so incredibly handsome.

Not sure if he did it on purpose, but he’s wearing the same thing he wore the first time he waltzed into my office, but this time, the smile he once had has disappeared and in its place is a blank stare, almost as if he doesn’t quite believe that he’s here.

Why is he here?

Hope blooms briefly, wondering if he’s here to make up, if he’s here to listen to my pleas again, or if he’s willing to give me one more chance.

“Hey,” he says gruffly, staring at the floor. “I uh, I heard you were leaving town.”

Cautiously, I walk toward him and stop a few feet away. With a nervous shake, I say, “Yeah, I leave in a few days.”

He nods and looks out toward the skyline. “You resigned?”

I can’t read him and it’s bothering me. Is he happy? Sad? Angry? It almost seems like his emotions were knocked loose from his heart and he’s just a shell of the man I used to know. I could use a hint to why he’s here, anything to ease my building anxiety, anything to help ease the excitement fighting to overtake that anxiety.

“Yes.” I link my hands together, forcing myself to avoid reaching out and touch him. “For many reasons, but happiness in my job being one of them.”

His lips twist to the side. “Knox told me.”

“I assumed. News seems to travel fast between our friends,” I say with an awkward chuckle. He doesn’t say anything. “How did the rest of the event go? Did you raise a lot of money?”

“Yeah.” He finally looks up at me. “Thank you. Not sure if I actually said that or not. But thank you for the donation. It’s going to make a giant difference . . . take us to the next level.”

“It was our pleasure,” I reply robotically.

He takes a step forward and my heart lurches in my throat. His gaze lifts, connects with mine, and I swear, in that moment I don’t breathe. Not for a second. Lungs stilled, heartbeat pounding in my ears, I hang in the balance as he takes one more step forward.

Skin tingling, emotions taut, I sway, despite trying to remain steady as my body trembles with anticipation of why he’s—

“Here,” he says, holding out a bag I didn’t see when he walked in. Then again, I was distracted by his eyes and the lack of expression on his face.

“What’s this?” I ask, taking the reusable bag from him. He sticks his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels while his gaze returns to the floor.

Is he . . . retreating?

“Some of your things you left at my place.” My heart tumbles past my ribs and straight to the floor, taking on every cut and scrape along the way. He grips the back of his neck and takes another step back. “I uh . . . didn’t want you to leave without it.”

I didn’t want you to leave without it. Not, I don’t want you to leave.

He’s done.

I swallow the biggest lump in my throat, trying to hold it together in front of him. “Thank you,” I say, my voice a mere whisper . . . choked.

He takes another step back and as if my heart is attached to a string being dragged by his foot, it follows along.

“Sure. If I missed anything, I’ll, uh, mail it.”

I shake my head, trying to plaster on a fake smile, but it comes out weak and ineffective. “No need.” I stare down into the bag, seeing a shampoo bottle, my body lotion . . . and a shirt. He could have thrown this out. He could have done anything with it, other than bring it here where I got my hopes up. Where I thought his presence meant forgiveness. “If I, uh,” I swallow hard again, “haven’t noticed it’s missing in a few weeks . . . probably don’t need it.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He scratches the top of his head and takes one more step back. “I should go.”

My teeth chatter, my lips tremble and before he can leave, I call out, “Wait, Jason.” A stray tear falls onto my cheek and I quickly swipe it away as I try to gather myself. When he looks at me, I take a deep breath and say, “I want you to know—”

Shaking his head, he says, “Let’s not say anything, okay?” I suck in a breath. Right. Say nothing.

Devoid of emotion, he turns his back toward me and walks out of the office door . . . but not before knocking on the doorframe as what? A final parting goodbye?

Then he leaves.

Just like that.

Out of my world.

I collapse into a chair and bury my head into my hands as anguish trickles up my spine, sending a wave of heat and humiliation through my veins.

Burning embarrassment and regret consume me.

Shame and self-hatred eat me alive.

And as I sob into my hands, I realize the one thing I cared about the most in this world, just walked out of my door without a care that I’ll be moving away from him.

It’s over.





“Are you sure you want to drive this to California yourself?” Emory asks, looking at my small moving truck. I only packed the things that mattered to me. Furniture was donated. No need to be reminded of all the surfaces Jason and I had fun on.