Chapter 2

The next morning I woke to my phone buzzing.

An unknown number.

I swiped to answer, and Dustin's voice came through, tight with barely held anger.

"Jane, aren't you clever now, blocking me and vanishing?"

I held the phone a little away from my ear and let him finish.

"Are you done throwing your fit? Viola was in critical condition last night. I sat up with her the whole time. Now get home. Right now."

His tone was matter-of-fact, edged with command.

As if I owed him my patience. As if I was supposed to keep waiting, no questions asked.

"We've already broken up, Dustin." I said it evenly. "Where I go, whether I come home, none of it has anything to do with you."

A beat of silence on the other end.

"Broken up? Jane, don't say things like that again." His voice softened, took on a coaxing note. "I know you took a fall yesterday too. That was my fault, I let you slip past me. Where are you now? I'll come get you."

"No need."

I hung up and blocked that number too.

Melinda came out of the kitchen carrying breakfast.

"That scumbag calling?"

"Yeah."

"Did you tear into him?"

"Not worth it."

For someone you've already decided to give up on, even one more word is a waste.

Melinda handed me the milk. "Good that you're letting go. Plenty of decent men out there. We don't need his type."

I drank the milk and said nothing.

That morning, I went back to the place Dustin and I shared.

We didn't have much. I had even less.

One suitcase held all of it.

I was wheeling the case toward the door when it opened.

Dustin stood in the doorway, haggard, dark shadows under his eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept at all.

He saw the suitcase at my feet, and his expression darkened.

"Where are you going?"

"Moving out."

He stepped forward, blocking my way, and reached for my wrist.

I stepped back and dodged him.

"Jane, stop this." He pinched the bridge of his nose, worn out. "I know I was wrong. I'm apologizing to you. But you know Viola's condition. She can't be upset."

That line again.

Viola can't be upset.

So what about me?

Is my heart made of iron?

"Dustin, three years ago, you saved her first. My leg was broken and I sat in that car waiting for you for forty minutes."

"Two years ago, in the downpour, you brought her an umbrella first. I stood outside my office building waiting for you for an hour and a half."

"Yesterday, we fell together, and all you saw was her."

I looked at him, one word at a time.

"I'm tired of waiting. I'm done."

He had no answer. The color drained slowly from his face.

"I…" He forced the words out. "Janie, it wasn't the same. The crash, she was unconscious, I didn't know how badly she was hurt. The rain, her office was far away, and she didn't have an umbrella."

"And so?" I cut him off. "So I deserved to be left behind, deserved to get soaked, deserved to sit alone on the ground waiting for you to spare me a glance?"

He was silent.

A long moment later, he said quietly, "I'm sorry."

That apology came too late.

And it weighed too little.

"I don't need your sorry." I gripped the handle of the suitcase. "From now on, you go take good care of your Viola. Don't come looking for me again."

I went around him and reached for the door.

My hand had barely touched the handle when he seized my wrist from behind.

Hard enough it felt like he wanted to crush the bone.

"I won't let you leave!"

There was a thread of panic in his voice, faint but there.

I didn't turn around.

"Let go."

"No!" he repeated, stubborn. "Janie, we've been together seven years. You say it's over and it's just over?"

"Seven years?" I let out a laugh, as if I'd heard the biggest joke in the world. "Dustin, ask yourself honestly. In these seven years, did you ever really love me?"

"Or were you only loving someone else's shadow through me?"

Viola and I are fraternal twins.

Alike enough, seven or eight parts the same.

But nothing alike in temperament.

She was frail, I was strong.

She needed protecting. I was used to carrying things on my own.

The grip on my wrist went suddenly slack.

I took the chance to shake him off, pulled the door open, and walked out without looking back.

Behind me came his low, strangled shout.

I didn't stop.