Page 113 of Fallen Stars

Will I be able to do what I love without constant flashbacks?

Only time will tell. But I pray I don’t lose another piece of myself to those assholes.

I take a seat across from Tymber on a couch in his office. “I have no expectations for my first day back.” Dropping my chin to my chest, I stare at my fumbling fingers a moment before I shove them beneath my thighs.

“This place is as much your baby as it is mine.”

The backs of my eyes sting as I meet his gaze. “Means a lot.” Nodding, I roll my lips between my teeth.

“Just glad you’re home.”

Home.

Yes, this place is as much my home as Oliver. Just a different type of home.

“Any idea what you want to do today?”

I shake my head. “Thought I’d loiter for a bit. See what calls to me.”

My gaze shifts to the cluster of screens over his desk and a torrent of anxiety swells beneath my diaphragm. I inhale a shaky breath and meet his tired eyes.

“It’ll be a while before I’m online again,” I admit.

“Not worried about it.” A strained smile curves the corners of his mouth. “With the big case closed, things are much quieter now.”

Unsure what to say, I take a sip of my coffee.

“The case files have been removed from your office.” He shrugs. “In case you’d like to go in there and clean.”

Maybe that’s what I need right now. To wipe the slate clean. Erase anything that may trigger my time away.

And I can start by scrubbing any evidence of that case from my office.

The paperwork may be gone, but the hours I spent at my desk, sifting through the darkest recesses of the world, poison the air and walls and furniture. Before I dive back into work, I need to eradicate the hell I brought to light.

“Five hours and this place is unrecognizable.” Tymber whistles as he glances around my office.

“Still have lots to do, but it’s a start.”

Moving closer to Tymber, I cross my arms over my chest and scan the room. Give today’s work a thorough once-over.

Compared to my previous setup, no one would think this is my office.

Which is exactly what I need.

Clean slate.

Tymber points to the desk in the middle of the room. “Don’t move that on your own, man.” He reaches behind himself and rubs a hand up and down his lower back. “Back pain isn’t just for old people.”

I want to laugh. I want to tease him and tell him heisold, even though five years is all that separates us in age.

But I do neither.

Instead, I blurt, “How did you figure out where I was?”

Beside me, Tymber stiffens.

The temperature in the room plummets.

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