Page 15 of Fractured Faceoff

I warmed up, pushing myself harder than usual. My muscles burned, but it was a good burn—a reminder that I was still in control of something in my life.

Isla might be right about a lot of things—but she wasn't going to dictate how I lived my life or who I cared about.

Chapter 5

Isla

For the next two days, I went through the motions. I met with the team as scheduled, which was a small blessing. All that was left was to compile the reports. The first morning after everything unfolded, I trudged into the office with heavy eyes and an even heavier heart.

"Hey, Isla. Rough night?" Sarah's voice pierced through the haze of my thoughts.

I nodded, setting my bag down. "You could say that."

"Well, you're in luck," she continued. "We've already gathered all the data. Just need your magic touch to put it all together."

"Thanks," I muttered, grateful for her efficiency.

I sat at my desk and opened my laptop; the screen glowing brighter than my mood. I began sifting through the data, numbers and charts blurring together.

By lunchtime, Sarah and I found ourselves in the break room, munching on stale sandwiches.

"You seem off," she observed between bites.

"Just tired," I replied, avoiding her gaze. The truth weighed too heavily to share.

Sarah didn't push further, for which I was thankful. Instead, we ate in silence.

The afternoon passed in a similar fashion. Data entry, analysis, formatting—it was all a monotonous routine that kept my mind from wandering too far into dangerous territory.

Day two started much like the first. I walked into the office with a sense of déjà vu, greeted by the same faces and familiar sounds of keyboards clacking and phones ringing.

"Morning," Sarah greeted me again, a little more chipper than before.

"Morning," I replied, managing a weak smile.

Back at my desk, I immersed myself in compiling the reports. It required meticulous attention to detail—a welcome distraction from my thoughts about…

No. I wasn't going to think about that asshole. Especially since whenever I did, my eyes would tear up and my chest would concave.

I typed up the reports, the clacking of the keyboard a comforting rhythm. Each keystroke grounded me in the present, keeping my mind from wandering. The data from the interviews needed careful analysis, and I found solace in the numbers and patterns. It was a nice distraction, losing myself in the meticulous work.

The hours ticked by, my focus unwavering. By the time my day wrapped up, I felt a strange sense of accomplishment. I closed my laptop and stretched, feeling the tension ease from my shoulders. All I wanted now was to binge-watch Netflix and order a pizza with Autumn. The thought of sinking into our worn-out couch and letting mindless TV wash over me sounded perfect.

Just as I reached for my phone to text Autumn about our plans, it buzzed with a new message. Ava.

See you soon.

I blinked at the screen, my heart skipping a beat. I completely forgot about dinner tonight.

Fuck.

I stared at the text, my stomach churning with guilt. Could I get out of it? Ava would understand if I needed to cancel... right? But the thought of disappointing her twisted my insides even more. She always knew when something was off with me, and skipping dinner would only raise more questions.

I sighed and typed out a quick response.

On my way.

Hitting send felt like sealing my fate. I glanced at the clock—just enough time to change and head over. The idea of facing Ava after everything felt daunting, but there was no turning back now.

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