Page 447 of Not Over You

“I don’t know,” I tell him. “And I think that’s the problem.”

Swiping away a tear, I stare at the concrete beneath my feet. The brick apartment building stretches stories above me, but my mind flicks to what’s lower—waiting for me.

“What does that make us now?” Archer’s voice brings my attention back to the surface. To the freezing air kissing my skin. The wind whipping around me.

“I don’t know what we are now, Archer. I just know I don’t want to be what we were.”

Nothing. Not for the first few seconds, and then he clears his throat.

“I’ll give you whatever you need, Charlotte.”

“Be safe, Archer.”

I end the call without a goodbye, and I let out a breath, the tears streaming down my cheeks. Then I notice the ache in my hand, and I release my fist, seeing the key Cys gave me. I wipe my face and head back inside, using my key to unlock the lobby door. I take the elevator down to the basement, to the studio. My studio.

I lied before. I do know what I want for the first time in a long time.

And I want to paint.

The silence down here feels needed, the air warm, and lights bright.

I go to sit on the stool, staring at the empty canvas.

Then I hold up my phone and snap a picture.

* * *

Thank you, I send along with the picture.

* * *

I’m over picking out a brush when his text comes through.

It’s a picture of a group on stage, taken from the side like he’s still backstage.

* * *

Always, CJ.

CHAPTER 8

BENJI

About the fourth time my phone goes off, I groan and roll over, grabbing for it off the nightstand. I don’t have to look. I just know.

“Brana,” I say, my voice rough with sleep. Because it’s three in the fucking morning.

“Did you listen?”

I check the water bottle I keep up here, but it’s empty. I sigh and roll my ass out of bed, heading for the door. “Nope. I was sleeping, which you should be doing since you have a show tomorrow.”

“This is the show,” he says back without missing a beat.

I want to argue. Tell the dude the songs he’s worked on the past two weeks are his show, but I was already sleeping like shit, so why not see where he goes.

“I’ll give it a listen, man.”

He hangs up the phone after mumbling something. All I can do is hope this is him focused in on the music and not something that winds up biting me in the ass later.

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