Page 105 of Inked Adonis

“You’re right,” she says again. “I kept the phone because I was afraid of you. Of this.” She gestures at the destruction around us. “And look what happened. Look what you did the second you thought I betrayed you.”

That’s a fucking dagger in the back. This is exactly what Katerina wanted—to prove to Nova that I’m the monster she painted me as.

And I played right into her hands.

All I hear is a hitched gasp before I slam the door shut behind me.

I don’t intend to open it ever again.

36

NOVA

The day I left my father’s house, I had a duffel bag over my shoulder and seven words in my head.

One foot in front of the other.

If I kept saying that and kept doing that—one foot in front of the other, over and over and over and over—then eventually, there’d be a distance between me and him that couldn’t be crossed. Maybe I’d even forget about him, if I kept it up for long enough.

Joke’s on me.

I ran from the jaws of one monster into the arms of another.

Even now, as I stare out at the Chicago skyline through pristinely polished floor-to-ceiling windows, that same old terror is thudding away in that same old spot beneath my ribs.

I’ve triedOne foot in front of the other,and it’s only gotten me back and forth between the four walls of this room. The doors remain locked tight, the windows sealed. My only company is a pair of dogs who have love in their eyes but not an ounce of understanding in their heads.

Breakup?they seem to be saying as they look at me.What’s that? Love is forever, stupid. Didn’t you know?

I know the world isn’t all bad, because there are creatures like Ruby and Rufus in it. Creatures who know love in a way humans never can.

Not complicated.

Not messy.

Not dark or dangerous.

Just pure.

It’s looking more and more like I’ll never get a taste of that myself.

I turn and eye the door. If I want to put one foot in front of the other, there’s only one way left for me to go: out.

Away from here, from Sam and the dogs and all the memories branded into every piece of furniture that’s ever felt our shared warmth.

Out.

Away from this prison that became something else when neither one of us quite knew what was happening.

Out.

For the first time since I left, I miss my apartment. I miss my teetering stacks of books and the thundering footsteps of the small army of children who live in the unit above me. I miss the water stain in the bathroom and the feeble plants on the windowsill.

Most of all, I miss the version of myself that lived there: a Nova who didn’t bother hoping for a happy future. That Nova could live with one foot in front of the other, always. That Nova didn’t think she’d ever have the chance to walk with someone beside her.

“Knock-knock.”

I twist to see who’s here. But it’s only Myles.

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