Bad idea, Pink.
I shove the voice, his voice, down and lift the lighter to the corner of the jersey.
The fabric holds fast.
I grit my teeth.
Eventually a curl of smoke wafts up from the edge. The fabric darkens, beginning to blacken and melt.
A knock comes on my door.
Dammit.
Dropping the lighter and jersey on the couch, I cross the room and answer it.
Brooke is there wearing a full face of makeup and a Canada Goose parka.
“I thought you weren’t coming until tomorrow?” I ask.
“Yeah, well, apparently, I came early to call an exterminator because your ass hasn’t. I saw two ratsinsidethe building,” she insists, tugging her hood off.
I step back to let her in, and she throws her arms around me.
“It’s good to see you,” I murmur into her jacket, meaning it.
“Well, If I hadn’t insisted on coming to visit my friend, it wouldn’t have happened.”
I take her coat and cross to the counter. “Wine?”
“Hell yes.”
I pour two generous glasses and carry them back to the living area.
Brooke’s perched on a chair like a queen holding court.
She lifts the jersey off the coffee table with her thumb and forefinger. “What the hell is this?”
I pass her a glass of wine and take a long gulp of mine. “Probably what it looks like.”
My ass hits the couch, sending the lighter bouncing. My friend’s eyes widen as she spots it.
“Were you going to burn this place down?!” she demands.
“I’m not crazy. I just wanted to be free.”
“Smoking yourself out is not the answer.” She shakes her head. “Whatever happened with you and Clay, you can’t hide out here.”
“Brooke, this is my life.” I gesture around the apartment.
My friend stares me down. “You’re too big for this.”
“Square footage is less expensive than New York—”
“I mean your spirit, Nova. You were made for bigger things.” She tosses the jersey at me, and I catch it, staring at the singed edge.
I think of the message that came in not long before she arrived.
“Since you mention it…” I set my wine down and reach for my phone, clicking into my email.