Page 100 of Kneel with the King
“Breathe today,” she says. “Even if it’s the only thing you manage.”
I nod and walk out before I answer the part of me that wants to stay and talk and ask how the hell people do this. How they let their bodies decide before their brains sign the contract. How they let go of what they thought their life was going to be, for something completely different.
Outside, the cold hits harder. I head toward the trail that loops the resort, because motion is easier than thinking. The sun’s up now, turning the ice on the branches into a chandelier. It’s stunning. It also makes my teeth hurt and my lungs burn with every breath.
By the time I circle back toward the cabins, my wrist twitches where my watch should be. I’m not used to being so checked out—so disconnected. I’m not used tonotknowing the time, or my heart rate, or any important emails. I’m not ready to go back inside. I’m not ready to see him looking rumpled and smug, and worse—safe. Therapy is at ten. The couples yoga session is after lunch. I could show up for both, or I could show up for none. The thought of sitting on that couch and telling Marina that the man I’m sleeping with is buying my company makes my stomach turn. The thought of lying next to him in a dark room with oil and low music and pretending it’s all for Walter makes my head spin.
My feet decide for me. They take me not to our door, but past it, toward the main building again. I’ll get another coffee. I’ll demand my personal phone back and I’ll find something to do that keeps my hands busy and my heart quiet.
I’ll… run.
Because maybe if I run fast enough, the ground will reappear under my feet.
The King’s Defeat
King
The couples therapysession is scheduled for ten, and I’m leaning against the wall in our cabin, watching Asher pace around like he’s an animal in captivity. Not only did he disappear this morning, but he only just returned from… wherever he was. I had to field curious questions from Walter and Jacques all morning, making excuses for his absence.
“You ready?” I ask when he still hasn’t put on his boots.
He shakes his head, not even pretending to feel bad about it. “I’m gonna skip it.”
“Skip it?”
He shrugs. “This isn’t real anyway, Ambrose. No point in wasting an hour talking about feelings we don’t actually have.”
The words land harder than they should, sharp and quick. He’s aiming to sound casual, but it still hurts.
I push off the wall. “So what, you just want to hang out here?”
“Actually…” He glances at his phone, checking the time. “I’m grabbing coffee with Ava.”
Somehow, I know it’s a lie. Also, I clock the phone gripped in his hand. He must’ve asked the front desk for it earlier.
Why is he acting strange?
“You should go. I didn’t do the homework, either, so it’s probably for the best. Tell Marina I say hello.”
There’s something in the way he says it—casual, almost bored—that makes my jaw tighten. “Right. The homework.”
He nods, already pulling on his shoes and coat.
And just like that, I feel brushed aside. Out of control.
Just like when I was a kid.
“See you later,” he says quickly.
I don’t say anything when he walks out the door for his “coffee with Ava.” I just watch him go, hands shoved in my pockets until the sound of his boots on the snow outside fades.
Blowing people off isn’t really my jam, so I quickly head to Marina’s office alone. When she notices Asher’s not with me, I spin a lie that he’s under the weather. We agree to come back tomorrow when he’s feeling better. I’m gone five minutes, tops.
When I push the door of the suite open, however, Asher is already there—sprawled on the bed, scrolling through his phone like nothing’s wrong. No coffee in sight.
“Back already?” he asks without looking up.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice clipped enough that even I can hear it.
