Page 104 of The Equation of Us

Three dots appear, then disappear, then appear again.

Logan:Mom’s worried about you. Says you sounded off on your last call.

I grimace. Of course she noticed. Not much gets past Caroline Carter, even over the phone.

Me:Tell her I’m fine. Just end of season stuff.

Three dots again.

Logan:Is it the girl I met? Nora, right?

I stop walking, surprised. They’d met once, a while ago.

Me:It’s nothing. Talk tomorrow.

I pocket the phone without waiting for his response and continue toward the hotel. Two blocks away, I pass a small park, empty at this hour except for a young couple on a bench, huddled together against the cool air, laughing at something on a phone screen.

The sight hits like a physical blow. That casual intimacy. The easy connection. The simple joy of existing in the same space as someone who matters to you.

All the things I had with Nora and didn’t appreciate enough while I had them.

Back in my hotel room, I strip down to boxers and a t-shirt, going through the motions of my nightly routine on autopilot. Brush teeth. Wash face. Set alarm for morning bus.

The bed is too soft, the room too quiet. I lie on my back, staring at the ceiling, sleep nowhere in sight despite the physical exhaustion of the game.

All I can think about is Nora.

Nora biting her lower lip when she’s concentrating, a small furrow appearing between her eyebrows.

Nora in my bed, her dark hair spread across my pillow, her analytical mind temporarily silenced by pleasure.

Nora walking out my door, her final goodbye still echoing in my ears eight days later.

I roll onto my side and reach for my phone. Her contact information is still there, unchanged. I stare at it for a long moment, thumb hovering over the call button.

She made her choice. Said she couldn’t do this anymore. That she needed to focus on saving what was left of her academic career.

I should respect that. Should let her go. Should focus on my own future, my own goals.

The Archer Initiative application deadline has passed. My submission is in, thanks to Whitman’s support. If I win, it willchange everything—providing the funding, the resources, the recognition to make my prosthetic design a reality. To fulfill the promise I made at Jesse’s grave.

It should be all I’m thinking about. All I care about right now.

Instead, all I can think is how empty that victory would feel without Nora to share it with. How hollow every achievement seems without her clear eyes lighting up when I explain a new breakthrough.

My thumb hovers over her contact for one more moment before I set the phone down, letting it fall to the mattress beside me.

She knows where I am. Where to find me if she changes her mind.

The ball is in her court.

Plus, she deserves the space she asked for.

Even if giving her that space is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Even if the cold emptiness of this hotel room is nothing compared to the frozen wasteland she left behind in my chest when she walked away.

Even if I have to keep turning down Ambers and pretending I’m fine in front of my team and lying to my family for weeks or months or however long it takes.

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