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With a few gentle swipes, I erase the trails of mascara smudged beneath my eyes—war paint from a battle I didn't ask for

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With a few gentle swipes, I erase the trails of mascara smudged beneath my eyes—war paint from a battle I didn't ask for. No need to look like a complete emotional wreck when I already feel like one. "Okay, I'm ready," I say, more to myself than him. 

I grab my purse, check for my phone, then pull on my dark brown coat—the one that always feels a little like armor—and head to the door. Jace takes my hand without a word and leads me out. His fingers thread through mine with a quiet kind of reassurance that says he knows I need it. Outside, the cool air brushes my skin. As we make our way to his car, my phone buzzes in my coat pocket—a vibration that signals a new Instagram notification. I ignore it. 

"I have something to ask you," I say just as we reach his sleek, familiar Audi Q5.

Jace looks over as we slide in. "What's up?"

"Bree asked if we want to have dinner with her and Austin tomorrow night," I explain, fastening my seatbelt as he starts the engine. "I told her I'd check with you first."

He glances over at me, brow raised slightly. "Do you want to go? After... everything?"

I nod, offering a half-smile. "Yeah. I think I'd like to meet Austin. And honestly? I need something that feels normal again."

"Alright," he says, shifting into gear. "I've got something at six thirty, but I can do seven." As he speaks, his hand moves to rest on my thigh—habitual now, grounding. Familiar. But the moment he says that, my mind trips.

"What do you have at..." I start to ask, then stop myself. I already know. A client. Of course. "Never mind," I murmur, letting my gaze fall to the window, watching the night glide past us in streaks of muted color.

The knot in my stomach tightens again. Jace's drug dealing is still a raw nerve, and after today—after Derek—it feels even more complicated. I want to believe that I can let it go, that I won't flinch every time it comes up, but I'm not there yet. I don't know if I ever will be. Maybe he senses it, because he doesn't say anything. Just squeezes my thigh gently in response, as if to remind me he's still there.

I pull out my phone and text Bree on the way.

We're in! We can do 7, is that okay?

Her reply comes almost instantly: Sounds good, see you then! I'll text you the details.

"Okay, dinner tomorrow is on," I confirm to Jace, putting my phone away.

He nods, then exhales a long, amused sigh. "Fuck. I never thought I'd be going on a double date. You're making me go soft, Mila." Hais tone is light, teasing—but after the day I've had, the words graze something too tender inside me. My shoulders stiffen.

"Is that a bad thing?" I ask, voice quieter than I intend. "We don't have to go..."

Jace glances at me, realization flickering in his eyes. "Hey. I was joking. Brighten up." He reaches over, taps the tip of my nose with his fingertip, a small smile curling his lips. "I'll just have to punch someone in the face afterwards to feel like a man again."

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