Fading Lines | (Line Series, Book 1) ✔️

chapter seventeen: undefined terms

—Undefined Terms

➳ Brooklyn Brody

The next morning, I was still curled up in bed, the weight of the night before pressing on my chest like a heavy stone. My phone had been buzzing with notifications for hours—texts I didn't want to deal with, calls I wasn't ready to answer.

I didn't have to open them to know who they were from.

The apartment was eerily quiet without Amelia around. She'd left to spend the holidays with her family upstate, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Just me, the leftover tension from last night, and the sound of my heartbeat, louder than it should've been.

A knock on the door pulled me out of my haze. At first, I ignored it, pulling the blankets tighter around me. But the knocking persisted, sharper this time. With a groan, I got up and dragged myself toward the door, half expecting it to be a package or some holiday card Amelia forgot to take.

But it wasn't.

It was Dylan.

Standing there in his tailored coat, looking sharp despite the early hour, but there was a weariness around his eyes, a tension that mirrored mine. He didn't even bother with a greeting. Just crossed his arms and looked at me, eyes narrowing.

"So you're ignoring me now?" His voice was low, but I could hear the frustration lacing it.

I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms too, trying to match his energy, though the sight of him made my pulse race, like it always did. "What do you expect me to say? You wanted me there last night to show me off, and then left me to deal with the fallout."

His jaw clenched. "That was not my intention, Brooklyn."

I let out a humorless laugh, shaking my head. "Really?
You paraded me in front of all those people, and then left me alone even though I didn't know anyone there. It was fine at first, sure, I understand you have your business to attend to. But what was the point?" I sighed recalling yesterday night, "And I overhear those women talking about me that I'm home-wrecker, some college intern who has no idea what she's doing."

He watched me as I continued, "And you know what, maybe I am. Maybe this has to–"

"Brooklyn," he stopped me, cupping my face in his hands. The air between us felt electric, like something could snap at any second. "That's not why I brought you there. I didn't bring you there to prove anything to anyone but to myself that I actually really like you."

I scoffed. "It sure felt like you were making some kind of statement. Maybe a silent announcement that you're going to be a 'free man' soon." My voice wavered, betraying the vulnerability I hated showing around him. "But you're still hiding me, Dylan. You didn't introduce me to anyone. Hell, I had to stand there, listening to people talk about me, as if I didn't exist."

Why was I even mad at that to begin with?

His eyes softened, but there was still a storm behind them. "You think I'm hiding you?"

I swallowed, forcing myself to hold his gaze. "What else am I supposed to think? This whole situation—it's so complicated and everyone sees me as that woman."

Dylan's eyes locked onto mine, his voice steady but low. "The divorce is final, Brooklyn. I wanted to tell you last night, after the ball, somewhere quiet. The papers were approved just yesterday."

I stared at him, the words settling in, but it didn't take away the sting of the night. "And yet, I'm still the one who looks like the outsider, the one they'll whisper about. The one who's with her boss while he's barely divorced. Do you know how that feels?" My voice cracked at the end, and I hated it.