I stare at the broken glass scattered across the table. My chest tightens. The art show starts in less than twelve hours, and our main piece is ruined.
Cade leans over, carefully picking through the sharp pieces. Zane paces behind us, phone pressed to his ear, trying to save the night.
“Yes, I know it’s short notice, but money isn’t a problem,” Zane says, voice tense. “We just need something close enough by morning.”
Cade glances at me. “This would be easier if he wasn’t acting like a storm cloud.”
“He’s just trying to help,” I whisper, even though the pressure in the room makes it hard to breathe.
“I don’t need his help,” Cade mutters, lining up two jagged edges like puzzle pieces. “I just need you to trust me.”
Zane ends the call with a long sigh. “No luck. Everything’s either book
