—Parkway Drive

"Welcome back!" Eric beamed through a pair of new, black glasses. Normally, I preferred to see someone's eyes without anything inhibiting my view of them, but the glasses suited Eric surprisingly well. "Someone got a tan. Was it hot in England?"

"Not exactly." I shifted uncomfortably in the chair at my desk, under his stare and extreme attention to detail. "Sort of made a pit stop."

I hoped he wouldn't ask anything further about it.

"Ahh. Did you have a nice vacation?" All of his focus was on me, with even his knees pointed in my direction. If the body language section of my elective, introduction to psychology class in college had taught me anything, that meant he was completely interested in what I had to say.

I thought back to most of the days in London, and our dreamlike nights in the Maldives, before answering too quickly. "Yes, I did."

"Well, that's good! You definitely earned it, though we missed you around here." Eric smirked and adjusted his tie. "Burt was a little upset he didn't get to thank you in person before he packed up."

"That's right." I nodded, remembering. "He called to say he was leaving immediately. What happened?"

"Something with his parents." Eric shook his head. "He and his wife moved back to Montana to help take care of them."

"I hope everything turns out okay for him," I said, and meant it.

"I do, too," Eric agreed. "But Tanya is a decent editor. She just came here from Chicago, where she was the head honcho at some tabloid or something."

"His replacement?" My head jerked up. "You've met her already?"

"Yeah." He laughed. "She's a little unorthodox, but maybe it'll make for interesting work."

I cringed at the prospect of change and uncertainty. It was already distressing enough to be separated from Julian after two weeks of spending nearly every moment together—apart from New Year's, of course.

What I needed, especially on that day, was routine familiarity.

"Here she comes," Eric said under his breath.

A voluptuous, middle-aged woman with platinum blonde hair—that was sheared into a layered bob—entered the tenth floor newsroom, spotted me, and made her way over to my desk. My nerves lit up as she approached.

"You must be Miss Fray?" she asked it as if we were gossiping, and extended her freshly manicured hand.

"Yes, ma'am. Brooke Fray." Her handshake was firm but her fingers were soft, which only made me miss Julian's calloused hands even more.

"Excellent, Brooke." She smiled and it made me uneasy, rather than putting me at ease. "My name is Tanya Lemieux. I'm the new editor-in-chief at the Telegram. Burt has relocated, as I'm sure you've heard by now, so you'll begin reporting to me immediately."

"Yes, ma'am." I didn't know what else to say.

"Very good. I trust that you've had a relaxing vacation and can dive right back into assignments with a fresh, rejuvenated mind. Since this is your first day back, now is probably the best time to let you know that I'm going to be adjusting your schedule," she said seriously.

What?

"I'm revamping this publication. The paper needs real, live event coverage," she said. "So, as the best music columnist that we have on staff, I would like you to start attending more live shows for proper reviewing and interviewing. I'll post your new schedule soon."

She tapped her long, red fingernails on my desk in the most obnoxious fashion.

"New schedule?" I asked. "But I thought—"

"Starting on Monday, you'll likely be working graveyard shifts, at least some days of the week," Tanya interrupted. "But the times will vary, so be sure to check it often."

I caught myself before I could roll my eyes. This couldn't actually be happening.

"Sound good?" Tanya asked when I didn't reply quickly enough.

"That will be fine, yes," I lied through my teeth, lacking any enthusiasm.

"Good," she said with a snobby smile before turning to walk away. "Today's story assignment is posted above your desk. I'll be in my office if you have any questions."

As she trailed away, I took note of her tight outfit—a black blazer and a skirt two sizes too small for her frame. Tanya's heels were much too high and distracting for the position that she held, and even though she was dressed to impress, it settled with me in the worst possible way.

"She wasn't so catty to me when she introduced herself," Eric explained in a whisper.

So I wasn't crazy after all. I was glad to not have been the only one to notice her clipped attitude with me.

"Of course not." I shook my head at his obliviousness. "You're a male. You're not competition."

Half of my time at work that day was spent waiting for a text from Julian. But it never came. The rest of my shortened week also passed without any word from him, even though I called once every night before bed, hoping to hear his low, sweet voice. The tour had already kicked off for him, and I wondered how it was going thus far.

Since, at the airport, Julian had said "goodnight" and not "goodbye," I was trying my hardest to just give him time and space, without being so insecure and needy. It was the least that I could do after the atrocious domino effect of events I had caused, which he was still clearly dealing with in his own way.

On Friday, right before I left work, Tanya trotted over to my desk.

"Oh, Brooke, before you head out for the weekend." Tanya pulled an envelope out from the pocket of her beige slacks. "On Sunday night, there is a jazz event that I'll be needing you to attend. Take Monday off in exchange, and we'll run the story Tuesday. I'm supplying you with two tickets, but you should still wear your press pass. Bring whoever you'd like as a guest."

"Alright. Thanks, Tanya," I said, peeking into the envelope as she walked away again.

"Jazz, huh?" Eric gave notice that he had overheard. "I love jazz."

I would have probably asked Laina to go with me under any other circumstances, but with Eric basically asking me without asking me, it felt awkward not to invite him.

"Well, would you like to go then?" I knew Julian would hate that idea, but this was purely business, and nothing more. I would explain that to him once I finally got a hold of him on tour. "Since you're a jazz fan, you can help me decide how good it is."

We exchanged numbers, and I handed Eric one of the tickets. We agreed to meet outside the venue at seven, since the show began at eight.

That night, I met up with Laina and Wes at their place for dinner. She ordered an enormous, greasy pizza and we watched ridiculous videos while talking about my experiences in London. For the time being, I left the Maldives out of my story retelling. In a strange way, it almost felt like a secret that Julian and I should have kept to ourselves. To talk about it would have taken away from the magical memory of our own enchanting paradise.

"Did you have any luck with the information that I pulled up for you?" Wes asked curiously at the first moment of awkward silence between the three of us. I wasn't prepared to answer that question, even though I should have been.

"Yeah. Thank you again for helping me out." It had been a favor for me, which turned into a disaster for my love.

I couldn't thank Wes for the outcome of giving me that information, but I appreciated his time to find it regardless. He couldn't have predicted what had happened, any more than I could have.

To mend my frazzled thoughts, I stared down into my lap and picked at the fabric of my jeans. Anything to distract me would have been better than the topic at hand.

"Not a problem. I'm just sorry I couldn't find anything on his birth father. So strange, it's like he never existed." Wes leaned back in his chair, eyes focused away from me. "I spent hours, too."

"It's okay," I assured him. "I really do appreciate everything you did to help. You don't need to look anymore."

With that, Laina shifted her focus to my face, and I brushed her worry off with a convincing smile. Part of me was glad that she believed my silent white lie, while the other part just desperately wanted to cry into her arms.

...

All of my Saturday was spent in bed, aimlessly eyeing search engine results for Ascend the Stars. According to the band's website, they were currently in Warsaw, and heading to Rome next.

I longed to hear his jokes about my Italian ethnicity.

I ached to hear his rumbling laughter.

I yearned to hear anything from him at all, good or bad, but it was slowly becoming apparent that he didn't need to hear my voice as much as I so direly needed to hear his.

It was becoming so bad that I caught myself talking out loud to Julian, as if he was actually there with me. The only comfort I felt came from the fact that the band would be returning to the United States in March, as part of their tour. The kickoff was in California, then they'd move east into Arizona. At the most, all I would've had to wait was another two months to get some answers from Julian.

Sunday afternoon came too quickly and I forced myself out of bed to prepare for the jazz show that evening. Black jeans, a white blouse, and a cream colored cardigan would have had to be classy enough, because I didn't at all feel like dressing up in anything fancier.

Once my makeup was on, I saw that I was running late.

I was frazzled.

So frazzled, in fact, that halfway through my drive to the venue, I realized I'd left my arrow necklace in my bedroom. It was probably better to have left it at home, I thought, since I didn't want anything to happen to it. I could be sure that the necklace would still be lying safely on my mattress, when I returned to my apartment.

The venue for the jazz show, much to my dismay, was an upscale bar. I recognized Eric's car in the parking lot, and as soon as he saw me pull in, he got out to greet me.

"Sorry I'm late." I shuffled through my purse to find my ticket.

"Only by ten minutes, you're fine." Eric blushed. "You look beautiful tonight."

"Oh, thanks," I said awkwardly, as we walked into the dimly lit lounge.

The band hadn't even set up yet, so Eric suggested we sit at the bar itself.

"Okay." I could feel my palms starting to sweat. "I don't want to drink, though."

"That's cool. You can get a nonalcoholic drink, on me. Hope you don't mind if I have a cold one, though." He pulled out the red bar stool and sat down.

I took the spot next to him, but furtively pulled the chair a few more inches away from his body before I sat in it. It had been so long since I'd been in a bar that I had forgotten how packed they could be, even on Sunday evenings. The crowded atmosphere already had me on edge.

"So, I probably won't get to see you very much anymore, will I?" Eric asked after ordering our drinks, his a stout ale and mine a mocktail. "Tanya's shifted your schedule around so much."

"Yeah, we definitely won't see each other as often." I nodded in agreement. "But our schedules should cross again sometimes."

"That sucks. I've really enjoyed working with you, Brooke." His forearm inched closer to mine. "You're a fantastic writer and a great desk-mate."

"Thanks." I chuckled. "It's been nice working with you, too. I appreciate all of your help over the months."

"Not a problem." Eric checked the time on his phone. "Well, I've got an odd request. Since I likely won't see you very much, how about a friendly picture for the ol' camera reel?"

"Oh, alright." I smoothed the flyaways in my hair and posed, smiling with my hands folded on my lap. Eric snapped a picture of us with his phone and hit save.

"Thanks, Brooke. That came out nice." He admired the picture while taking long gulps of his beer.

Amazingly enough, the smell of alcohol all around the room wasn't triggering a desire in me. I kept thinking of Julian, and my promises to him, while all of the urges dissipated into thin air.

"Want me to forward it to you?" Eric asked.

"Huh?" I hadn't been paying much attention. Or any attention, actually.

"The photo. Want a copy of it, too?" Eric repeated.

"Yeah, sure. Send it to my phone," I said, as I sipped my sweet mocktail, and got the eerie feeling that I was being watched. I looked all around the crowded bar but didn't see anything out of the ordinary.

"Hey, Pam!" Eric called out, as a brunette in a sparkly, royal-blue dress approached to hug my coworker. "Oh, Brooke, this is my old friend from college. Brooke, Pam... Pam, Brooke."

"Who are you calling old?" She sneered at him, then turned to smile at me. "Good to meet you, Brooke."

"Nice to meet you, too." I shook her hand.

Pam and Eric delved into a conversation and I suddenly felt out of place. I needed a moment to breathe, alone. Softly, I tapped Eric's shoulder.

"I'm just going to the restroom. Can you watch my stuff?" I asked in his ear.

"Of course, go ahead," Eric agreed, and went back to conversing with his college friend.

The bathroom was super clean, gloriously spotless really, especially for a bar lounge. There was an elegant, cinnamon-brown sofa in the doorway, just before the sinks. I sat there to rest my feet—and mind—for a while. The more minutes I let pass in the bathroom, I thought, the fewer I would have to spend stiffly chitchatting with Eric and his friend.

After some time, the abrupt noise of a saxophone starting to play, followed by some light cheering, brought me to my feet.

When I walked back into the crowded lounge, at first, I didn't notice that someone was in my seat. Once I did, and gathered who it was, I almost bolted for the back door. But my purse and phone were on the bar top, and there Caleb sat, right beside them, in a white polo shirt and faded blue jeans. I garnered every bit of courage I could muster and walked over to him.

"Well, well, well! Look who it is!" Caleb exclaimed. "I knew that was your car in the parking lot."

"What are you doing here?" I whispered into Caleb's ear sternly.

"The better question is, what are you doing here?" Caleb pointed to my mocktail.

"I'm here with my coworker to cover this jazz show for a story. Not that I need to explain anything to you, but that's a nonalcoholic drink." I huffed as the band picked up volume.

"You're tan. It looks good on you." His face exuded arrogance, with his chin turned upward. "So, where's loverboy tonight?"

"You need to leave. Now," I demanded, hoping he would take me seriously. "I don't want to have to call the cops."

"I can be anywhere I'd like, Brooke." He snickered. "And it's a little late for that, don't you think? Your buddy, what's his name, Sansbury? He's been trying to get me, but he's got nothing on me. They can't do shit. You're not pressing charges, and I know why."

"And why is that, do you think?" My tiny fists clenched in fury, and I wished Julian would barge through the door at that very moment.

"Because you still love me." He stroked my cheek and I slapped his hand away. Nobody noticed our exchange.

"I hate you. Now, get out of my seat and leave." My voice emitted nothing but exasperation. "Don't ever come near me again. I mean it."

"Fine. You can have your seat, but I'm not leaving the lounge." Caleb flashed a sardonic smile and stepped backwards to find a table.

Eric had walked a few feet away to get a better glimpse of the jazz band. His back was turned to me, as I walked up to him and nudged his arm.

"Hey. I thought you were going to watch my stuff?" My face was beet-red.

"Oh, I was, but your brother showed up and said he would watch it," Eric explained innocently.

"My brother?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah, the guy with short black hair and a white shirt? He came up and asked for you by name, said he was your brother."

Something told me to check my phone.

I went back to my chair, and pulled up the home screen. There were no new messages, no sent messages, no calls received or dialed, and everything looked to be exactly how I had left it when I went to the bathroom. Still, I wasn't stupid enough to drink the rest of my mocktail, so I gave it back to the bartender and told him to toss it.

"Would you like another?" he offered.

"No, thanks. I'm leaving," I told him.

"Is everything okay?" Eric followed me back.

"Not really. That guy wasn't my brother. I don't have a brother." I shoved my phone into my pocket and threw my purse over my shoulder. "I really need to get out of here."

"Wait, wait. I'll follow you back to your place." Eric ran to say goodbye to Pam, then put his jacket back on and paid the bar tab.

I couldn't see Caleb anymore, and his green car wasn't in the lot when I found my black Civic.

"I'll follow you back to your place and make sure you get inside safely," Eric offered.

"Okay. Thanks so much for this, Eric," I said, as I got into the driver's seat.

The roads were quiet that night, making for an easy trip back to my apartment complex. Once we both parked, Eric jogged over to my car and walked me to my front door.

"I'm really sorry about tonight." Tears were begging to fall, but I wouldn't allow them to, until I was alone, inside. I just needed to withstand the next few moments.

"Hey, don't apologize. I'm really sorry for not paying closer attention. I just figured, who would lie about that?" He shook his head. "Who is that guy, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Just a mistake," I answered honestly, as my phone started to vibrate in my pocket. The name Arrows flashed across the screen and my heart nearly jumped through my chest.

"I'm sorry, I have to answer this. Excuse me for just a second."

"Sure, go right ahead." Eric placed his hands in his pockets as a chilly wind gusted past us, and turned his face to the side.

"Hello?" I answered frantically. I couldn't believe he was finally going to talk to me, and at the exact moment I needed him. I loved him so much it killed me. I had to tell him how much.

Eric cleared his throat with a low cough, and within seconds, the line went dead.

I stared down at the phone screen and waited a moment for Julian to call back, but he didn't.

"Bad connection?" Eric asked.

"Yeah, I think so," I said, although I wasn't sure. "Hey, thank you so much for everything. I'm gonna get inside. Maybe you can still catch the rest of the band, if you hurry back right now."

"Maybe I'll do that." Eric smiled, and moved in for a loose hug. "Be safe, alright? Just give me a call if anything comes up. I'll just be a few minutes away."

"Thanks, Eric," I said, as I unlocked my door and stepped inside. Behind me, I dead-bolted it shut and went back three more times to make sure it was still securely locked.

I turned all the lights on and checked every corner of every room to be sure I was alone, then started redialing Arrows. It went directly to his voicemail. Maybe his phone had died at the most inopportune time.