(Sean's POV)
"Cancel everything."
The words leave my mouth before I pick them. Alexander stands in the doorway with his tablet, a pen tucked behind his ear.
He doesn’t ask which meetings. He doesn’t ask anything. He nods once and pulls the door shut.
The click is the loudest thing in the room.
Hannah is on my couch. Ice in a paper towel pressed to her left cheek, her fingers white around it. She sits very straight. Very still. The way she sits when she won’t let herself cry — composed for me, holding the pieces together so I don’t have to see them fall.
I pace.
I don’t mean to. My legs move. Four steps to the glass. Four steps back. The track between my desk and the window turns into a groove I haven’t noticed before. Floor-to-ceiling panes throw flat, hard late-afternoon light acro
