Chapter 100

EMILIA

I step out of the shower and breathe in the steam like it’s medicine. The quiet hum of the water still in the pipes, the fogged-up mirror—it’s the first real silence I’ve had all day.

And then I catch my reflection.

Christ.

I look like I’ve been through a war. Probably because I have. A mopstick war. With a deranged man-child who broke in through the window like this was Mission: Goddamn Idiot.

I lean closer, wiping a circle into the condensation. My eyes are bloodshot. My lip’s a little swollen. My chest still feels tight, but not from fear.

God, I can’t wait to go home. Back to New York, where people only swing mopsticks in musicals. Back to binge-watching Confidential Family with Tessa, baking through the night, testing new recipes that probably won’t sell. But still—safe. Familiar.

And then there’s the quiet part of the fantasy. The one I didn’t realize had snuck its way in until now.

I’d go to Liam’s home games. Sit in the