Page 29 of Fault Line

Yet, despite my efforts, nothing seems to work. My mind’s relentless, a nonstop loop of anxiety and baseless fears, refusing to be anchored.

I huff out a breath. Stare at the wall. Tap my fingers against my forearm, tracing a path from the crux of my elbow, down across my radius, and press a thumb into my wrist.

Oh, fucking hell.

I don’t want to rely on these thoughts, but it’s the only thing that seems to work. Sighing, I turn onto my back and let myself fall into the now-familiar daydream.

It’s two weeks prior, and we’re back in Holden’s car again.

I imagine the low cadence of his voice, the feeling of his hands on my skin, and a flame sparks inside of me. It’s wrong, I know it is. All we do is argue, and I have no right to think about him this way. But it feels so good to let go, to forget, just for a little while.

Eventually, exhaustion takes over, and I drift off to sleep, picturing Holden’s fingers filling me instead of my own.

* * *

I joltawake in the middle of the night, heart hammering from the dirty thoughts swirling around in my head. Holden’s dark eyes, his lips, his hands, his golden hair—it all reverberates in my mind. This time, it simply wasn’t enough to carry me through the entire night.

Well, fuck.

I try to shake off the unsavory thoughts, grabbing my phone to call Elio. I can only assume he’ll be awake at this hour. He’s usually a night owl, especially on the weekends, so I’m sure he’s up to no good somewhere.

Thankfully, he picks up after only a few rings. “Kai, you okay?” he asks, his voice groggy with sleep.

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“No, you’re good,” he assures me. “I just got in bed, and I’m like half-asleep, scrolling through my phone.”

My eyes widen, surprised that he’s tucked away inside his apartment already. “But it’s Friday night.”

“Yeah, I know, but I had to film back-to-back scenes earlier.”

“Oh,” I awkwardly murmur.

“Yeah,oh. So, is everything okay?”

I let out a shaky sigh. “I can’t sleep, and I feel sick.”

“Sick, like you’re ill? Or sick like you’re anxious?”

“Sick like I wanna pull all my hair out.” I attempt to keep the explanation brief, knowing he’s well aware of my issues. “I can’t sleep, and I can’t think about anything helpful or productive. Plus, I had this awful fucking dream .. .”

“About what?” he gently presses.

I hesitate, unwilling to share the intimate details. “Er, it’s not important. I just—I wanted to hear your voice. I was hoping you could distract me.”

“I can swing by real quick if you want? Is Lizzie home?”

“No, she’s having a girls’ night with some of her friends. Besides, it’s the middle of the night. You don’t need to do that.”

“Kaia, I’m here.”

“No, I know.” My voice cracks with emotion. “I know you are. And I’ll be okay. I’m just overthinking things.”

“That’s your MO,” he teases, an attempt to lighten the mood. “Look, what if I stay up with you on the phone until you fall asleep?”

A wave of gratitude washes over me. “Okay.”

“You have any gossip to share?”

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