Chapter 281: Similarities
She elbowed me, grinning so wide I thought her face might crack.
Second flash.
"Try not to look like you’re at a funeral."
I stared blankly at the lens.
Third flash.
"Ivan would’ve stuck a straw up your nose by now just to get a laugh."
That pulled the smallest twitch of my mouth.
Fourth flash. Done.
Erin whooped, grabbing the printout as it slid out. "Oh my god, we look horrible."
"Good."
She handed me one copy. "Keep it. For Ivan."
I hesitated. Then tucked it into my coat pocket, pressing it down like maybe if I buried it deep enough, it wouldn’t split me in two.
Later
I drove her home myself.
Didn’t say much on the way. My voice had settled into silence again. My head ached in that familiar way grief always delivered... like a hammer behind the eyes.
When we pulled up to her apartment, Erin paused before stepping out.
"I’m planning something," she said. "For Ivan. On the day."
I looked at her.
She continued, "Just something simple. Cake. Pictures. His playlist. Maybe those weird cherry sodas he used to love."
I remembered those.
He used to force them on everyone like they were liquid gold.
"I want to do it right," she whispered. "Do you think you’d help me? Be there?"
I didn’t hesitate this time.
"I’ll be there," I said.
Her smile was softer now. "He really loved you, you know."
I didn’t answer.
Because if I did, I might not stop shaking.
She got out, waved once, and disappeared through the building door.
I didn’t drive off immediately.
The engine hummed quietly beneath me, lights from the building bleeding into the windshield like veins. The world outside felt soft... hushed and slow... but inside, I was a storm.
I leaned back into the seat. One arm draped over the wheel.
I dug inside my coat Pocket, fingers curled around the photo strip like it might keep me anchored.
I shouldn’t have come today.
But I had to.
Ivan would’ve dragged me out himself if he was alive. Would’ve thrown my coat out the window and said, "You wanna grieve me? Then show up and remember the good shit too, dumbass."
My hand slipped into my coat pocket again. The photo booth strip still sat there. Warm from my body heat.
I didn’t look at it. I didn’t need to.
I reached for my phone instead.
Opened my gallery. It was empty. Of course it was.
Except one.
Tucked way down. Hidden. Undeleted.
A photo of Aria.
Taken on a whim... the day she dragged me to that stupid park for my birthday. I loved the one we had taken afterwards but this was my favorite.
She was mid-sentence. A french fry in one hand, the other flailing mid-air like it was delivering a TED Talk on something I couldn’t even remember because I was too busy staring at her face. Her expression caught between serious and playful.
She looked...
Real.
So fucking real I could smell the sunscreen on her skin and the warmth of her thigh pressed against mine when we sat on that ratty picnic cloth.
I remembered sneaking the shot.
And how she caught me a second later and demanded to see it.
I’d told her I deleted it.
I lied.
My thumb hovered over her face now. God, I missed her. I missed her like a lung misses air. The space between us was its own kind of violence.
I stared at the screen for a long time. Then my thumb slid to my messages and I started to type.
Are you okay...
I erased it.
I saw you at the burial...
Erased again.
I miss you.
God.
I fucking hated myself.
I locked the screen. Tossed the phone into the passenger seat like it burned.
My chest caved inward. A slow, dull crush of something I couldn’t name. Maybe grief. Maybe regret. Maybe everything. The silence was deafening.
Until my phone buzzed.
Ash.
I groaned under my breath and picked up.
"What?"
"Glad you picked," she said. "We have a clean-up situation."
"What kind?"
She sighed. "Something about the last neural sync batch from Zephyrcore’s test group. One of the terminals threw off a spike yesterday and it flagged your name in the logs."
My fingers tightened on the wheel. "How?"
"I don’t know yet. But I’m cleaning it before it climbs to your father and mine’s desk. Meet me at headquarters. Twenty minutes."
I nodded. "Fine."
"And Kael?"
"What."
"You sound like shit."
Click.
I started the car. Pulled into traffic. Didn’t bother looking back.
I had to bury everything again.
Aria. Ivan. That ache in my fucking bones.
The world was still turning. And so was I. Whether I wanted to or not.
....
Zephyrcore was too bright for my mood.
The lobby lights made my head throb. My shoes echoed across marble floors that were too clean, too clinical... like the kind of place that didn’t allow grief past the doors. I took the elevator straight to the upper-level labs, ignoring the wide-eyed interns and stiff suits who scurried out of my way like I carried death in my pocket.
Maybe I did.
Ash was already waiting when I stepped into the secure wing. Leaning against the glass-paneled wall like she hadn’t just called me in for an emergency, her arms folded, hair pinned back into some sleek updo that screamed I’m bored, fix it.
"Took you long enough," she said, pushing off the wall.
"Just talk."
She rolled her eyes and handed me a tablet. "So the clean-up’s minor... some irregular neural feedback from the last sync. Probably a corrupted relay node, but the code flagged your old designation in the ping. If it escalates, people we don’t want will sniff it out. I’m handling the internal log wipes before that happens."
"Where’d the node flag it?" I asked, already skimming the data.
"R&D branch, New Bastion. One of the early trial men. Could just be a sensor glitch," she said, shrugging. "Or maybe you left a mark in someone’s subconscious. Wouldn’t be the first time."
I ignored the bait. My hand went to my inner coat pocket, reaching for my phone.
That’s when it slipped.
Ash’s brow lifted when she noticed. She bent and picked it up before I could stop her.
"Oh my god," she breathed. "Is this...? Is this you in a photo booth?"
I snatched it back. "Give it."
She didn’t. Not immediately. Her eyes scanned it... three vertical frames.
"I didn’t even think you had a reflection, much less a soul," she teased, her grin sly. "Look at you. You almost look jolly. I thought you’d need to be strapped down for a selfie."
"Ash."
"Okay, okay," she said, finally handing it over. "Touchy. But seriously... who’s the lucky girl?"
I shoved the strip into my pocket and met her eyes with a glare sharp enough to draw blood.
She smirked. "God, you’re no fun. How does Aria cope with you?"
My chest twisted.
I didn’t think.
"Is she okay?"
Ash blinked at the sudden shift. Her smirk softened a little. "If you’re that curious, you could just ask her, you know."
I looked away. Of course I couldn’t. Not when she told me to stay gone.
Ash sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. "She’s surviving. On the outside, she looks steady. But inside?" She hesitated. "She’s breaking in slow motion."
That landed hard.
Too hard.
I looked down at the photo booth strip again... barely visible in my palm... and swallowed the ache.
"Just send an update," I said, voice cold again.
Ash rolled her eyes. "So we’re back to that. Alright. I’ll email you the debug routes and clean-wipe logs. Oh, and... " she arched a brow, "you never answered. Who was the girl in the picture?"
I turned away.
She clicked her tongue behind me. "God, I can’t wait for this damn partnership to be over."
I paused, halfway to the door. "Me too."