BURNING BRIDGES

CHAPTER 8: The Sister

Maya Voss opened her apartment door in pajamas and a scowl. "You look terrible."

"Thanks." Elena pushed past her, collapsing on the couch. "Did you see the paper?"

"Everyone saw the paper." Maya brought coffee, strong and black. "You want me to say I told you so?"

"I want you to tell me I'm not an idiot."

"You're not an idiot." Maya curled up beside her. "You're in love with a complicated man who has a complicated past. The question is whether you can live with the complications."

"I don't know if I can live without him."

"Then fight for him." Maya's voice was gentle. "Dad's gone, El. You don't have to choose between love and family anymore."

Elena stared into her coffee. "He lied to me. Again. By omission."

"Did he? Or did he try to protect you from something he knew would hurt?" Maya sighed. "I'm not defending him, but I remember how you were after you left. Broken in ways that took years to heal. If he thought he could spare you that pain—"

"He should have told me."

"Yes. And you should have given him a chance to explain three years ago. You're both terrible at communication." Maya nudged her. "Go talk to him. Really talk. Not about the article, not about the past. About whether you can build something real this time."

Elena stayed until evening, letting Maya feed her and distract her with stories of grad school disasters. But when she finally checked her phone, there were no messages from Julian. No calls, no texts, no emails.

He was giving her the space she'd demanded. The question was whether she wanted it.

She found him at the Henderson building, standing in the darkened lobby, staring up at the damaged ceiling. He didn't turn when she entered, but his shoulders tensed.

"I told Mike to cancel the project," he said. "You don't have to worry about your reputation. I'll sell the building, find another flagship. You can restore something else."

"Julian—"

"I should have told you about the article. I was trying to fix it first, make it go away. Old habits." He finally looked at her, and the exhaustion in his eyes made her chest ache. "I'm sorry, Elena. For the secrets, for the past, for not being the man you deserve."

"Stop." She crossed the space between them, stopping just out of reach. "I overreacted. The article triggered every fear I have about us—about losing myself, my career, my stability. But that's my damage, not yours."

"Your fears are valid. I am a risk."

"Yes." She stepped closer. "But I'm tired of being safe. Tired of choosing security over happiness." She took his hand, feeling him tremble. "I want to try. Really try. But I need you to promise—no more secrets. Even when they're uncomfortable. Even when they might drive me away."

"I promise." He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair. "God, Elena. I thought I'd lost you again."

"You haven't." She held him tighter. "But Julian? Next time there's a scandal, we face it together. No unilateral decisions."

"Agreed." He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, her mouth. "Stay with me tonight. Not for s*x. Just... stay."

She did. They ordered takeout, spread blankets on the dusty lobby floor, and talked until dawn—about the article, about his plans to address it publicly, about her fears and his hopes. When the sun rose through the dirty windows, painting them both in gold, Elena knew something had shifted.

They weren't just reconnecting anymore. They were building something new.