“Of course I remember.” I perch on my windowsill, overlooking the street. Loki jumps in my lap on cue, always happy to use me as a piece of furniture. I remember that night so well; it’s still painted in my memory in vivid strokes. “You said I owed you one, and you always collect your debt.” I let out an embarrassed chuckle. I have no business remembering things he told me seven years ago. “Well, consider mine paid, now that you’re about to finish your book thanks to my determination. Or neediness, depending on how you look at it.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Your debt was not paid in full.” His voice is low and menacing all of a sudden.

“What do you mean?” I clutch my phone so hard that it’s about to break.

“I saved your ass. You’re not getting out of it by brainstorming with me. I help your muse just as much as you help mine.”

“What else do you want?”

You, I want him to hit back at me. I want you.

“You still need to get on the BART,” he says, in reality. Because he doesn’t want me anymore. He said himself that it’s over.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused. All the same, this is the final thing on your to-do list before I consider you debt-free.”

There’s a brief silence, which I use to collect my jumbled thoughts.

“I think I need to find a job and an apartment first,” I say cautiously.

“Nah, that would be out of order.” I can practically envision him waving a dismissive hand at me. “Go to the same station where it happened. Get on that train. Face your demons.”

“Joe,” I say quietly, “you know I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You went to her grave. How is that different?”

“I watched her die there,” I hiss out, feeling my neck crawling with heat. Why is he doing this? It is so unnecessarily cruel. “It was pretty graphic too.”

“You cannot swear off subways. You cannot never go underground again.”

“Says who?” I drawl. “I’ve been doing that for seven years. Most cities don’t even have an underground train system. Why does it matter?”

“It matters because you’re letting fear win. Don’t you see a pattern here? Fear was the reason why you stayed with Dom. Fear was the reason you bailed on me both times. Fear is why you don’t get on a subway.”

“Fear can win. It’s not a competition.”

“Ever,” he says stoically. “You asked me what I wanted for my birthday.”

“Yeah.” I press my forehead against the cool glass of my window, closing my eyes. “I was kind of hoping you’d want . . . socks?”