Page 216 of Their Arrangement
Two shadows made of legacy and ruin.
And I left the ashes behind.
But not the fire.
34
CLOE
I wokein his bed again. Same sheets. Same silence. But everything felt different. The bruise on my cheek had faded to a dull yellow. The cut on my lip barely tugged when I moved now.
Not that I had much to say.
The ache in my ribs had dulled to something background. But the one in my chest? Still there. Still sharp. Still dragging through every breath like it wanted to be remembered.
The other side of the bed was cold.
Untouched.
Just like every morning before.
He didn’t sleep there.
I wasn’t even sure if he slept at all. The pillow remained fluffed. The sheet tight. No indent where a body should be. Like he stood guard until I fell asleep—then vanished.
I rolled slowly. Tested my muscles. The pain was fading. But the tension wasn’t. It lived under my skin now. Settled into the space between healing and memory.
I sat up.Let the silence crawl over me. It wasn’t soft. It was thick.Heavy.The kind that felt placed there, not accidental.
I listened for him.
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No doors closing.
Just the fridge humming in the other room. And the city outside—too far away to matter.
I stood. The floor chilled my bare feet. Wolfe’s t-shirt hung loose against my body. It didn’t smell like him anymore. Not after days of sleeping in it. But I wore it anyway.
Because it made me feel like I hadn’t completely fallen apart. I padded into the hallway. Then the kitchen. And there he was. Leaning against the counter. Coffee in one hand. Phone in the other. His jaw flexed once. Then again. Something unreadable in the set of his shoulders.
He didn’t look at me. Didn’t glance over. Didn’t acknowledge my presence at all.
“Morning,” I said.
Soft.
Unsteady.
Like I wasn’t sure if it was allowed.
He nodded once. Didn’t speak. Didn’t ask how I slept. Didn’t check the bruise. Didn’t say my name. He just set the mug down. Slid past me. His shoulder brushed mine—barely. But it might as well have been a wall. Because I felt it like a closing door.
I didn’t follow.
Didn’t ask.
