Page 44 of Age of Shade

It isn’t set.

I swallow, turning to face the empty waiting room. It’s still and quiet, the usual jumble of coloring books and broken crayons are scattered over on the long, narrow coffee table, and the little wastepaper bin beside the coffee machine is overflowing. Beyond the long, curved reception desk, thecomputers are powered down, and lights from a passing car shine brightly through the blinds.

Everything is normal, but not once in three years has Asher forgotten to set the alarm. Now, the tiny hairs on the back of my neck are standing on end.

My hand closes around the little pepper spray canister hanging from my keychain as I edge further into the building, listening for signs of an intruder. The practice is quiet, though, and even the muted rumble of traffic fades as I move into the hall which leads to the cleaning chairs and offices.

I’m being ridiculous. There’s no one here. Asher forgot to set the alarm because he, like me, spent the better part of last night having sex.

Gusting out a long sigh, I trudge forward, still grasping the pepper spray but not expecting to encounter anyone. There’s a safe used to store narcotics just off the room with all the equipment sterilizers, and a quick peek confirms it’s untouched. Surely if someone were to break in, they wouldn’t have locked the front door behind them, and that safe would have been their first target. I doubt the criminals of New York are particularly interested in Asher’s old desktop computer or tooth-extraction equipment.

As I push open the door to his office, though, already slinging my too heavy backpack over my shoulder, I let out a high-pitched, shrill scream. There, leaning against the desk in the center of the dimly lit room, is a tall, broad-shouldered man.

I’m only terrified for a second, though. Or, at least, I’m only afraid some petty criminal is about to whack me over the head for a second.

Then, the fear becomes something else entirely.

“Asher.” My voice breaks, and I fumble with the light switch, realizing half a second too late that I’m not sure I want to see his face right now.

Through all this, he hasn’t moved a muscle, and as the overhead fluorescent lights flicker to life, it’s all I can do to keep my legs from collapsing beneath me.

The man I love is staring at the floor, his expression set and stony. He looks… He looks colder than I’ve ever seen him, like all the light has gone out behind his eyes. Behind him, the door to the closet is open and my green storage bin is sitting in the doorway, its lid cast aside.

No. Please no.

Somehow, I never imagined him finding out like this. In all the different ways I’ve played out this conversation in my head, I was nevercaught. All the careful words I’d tried to memorize are thrown to the wind, lost. They don’t matter anymore.

My eyes sting, and a ragged sob breaks free from my lips. “Asher, please—”

“Don’t. Don’t talk right now, Adina.”

Something shatters deep inside me. I think it might be my heart.

My bottom lip trembles as I reach into my pocket, pulling out the folded note I’d written during my seminar. Only a few minutes ago, I had hoped it would be enough, but not anymore.

Asher doesn’t look at me as I approach, gently setting it on the desk beside him. God, this hurts so bad. I always thought “broken heart” was an expression, but it’s not, because Ifeelbroken.

Still, as I step back toward the door, I can’t help hoping that he’ll call out and stop me. He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t, because why would he? As if this man wasn’t spectacularly out of my league before, now he knows I’m a fraud too. A stupid, damaged girl who fell in love with a man that she neglected common sense, and now she’ll be right back to where she started. Homeless and alone.

I hover at the edge of the room, and it’s an effort just to open my mouth and speak. “I’ll go,” I whisper, barely audible.

At my words, Asher’s head snaps up, and he stares at me through narrowed eyes. “What the hell does that mean?” he demands savagely, and I pause, confusion cutting uncomfortably into my grief.

I blink. “I thought… I mean…”

His eyes flash behind his glasses. “You thought I’d want you gone? That I’d throw you out on the street in fucking February? Is that why you didn’t tell me?”

My mouth pops open, but all I can manage is a choked noise of disbelief.

Asher growls, cursing under his breath, and points at the couch. “Sit, Adina.Sit there, and don’t fucking move.”

He doesn’t want me to leave? That’s something, isn’t it? If he were ending this, he’d just want me to go, right?

I sit, watching as Asher begins to pace the room, his long legs carrying him from one wall to another. He’s like a caged animal, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing with myself. Do I try to say something?

“Asher—”

“No.”

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