My home was usually my bright spot. The one place where everything was the way it was supposed to be. More than that, the one place the bank didn’t own. Not many residents in Brooklyn could say the same.

I stepped inside my condo and threw the keys on the hall table. Shoes kicked off, jacket shrugged out of—carefully, so I didn’t drop everything I was carrying—and then I trailed across my living room and into the adjacent kitchen. I flicked on lights along the way and breathed in deeply. At least the foul scent of Shawn’s cologne was gone now. We’d never lived together, but he’d stayed over often enough to make people think so.

The tiniest thing did give me a pinch of satisfaction. The remote to the TV was still on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room, and it was where I wanted it. Shawn would always move the remote to the coffee table, but this was the spot where I had breakfast in the morning and watched the news.

Everything work-related ended up on the kitchen bar too, before I turned on the TV to get some sound in here.

I kinda missed having my brother around. Nicky had lived in my guest room until he’d met Gideon.

Nicky had cooked too…

All right, three exciting things happening tonight. Shower, eat, work. In that order. Wait—what time was it? I checked my watch and felt another pinch of something that wasn’t awful. Camden Adair released a video today. Every Tuesday at eight o’clock, so it should be live already.

I decided to shower first, though. It’d been a long day, and I’d worked out during the “free period” I had before my last class for advanced drummers. A class that Nicky would take over for me soon.

After taking out a Tupperware container from the freezer, I went upstairs and, as fucking always, almost hit my head on the wooden beam crossing the ceiling near the landing. People thought it was charming as hell to have a one-and-a-half-story condo, complete with exposed brick walls, open-plan design, and rustic flooring. And I loved my home. But this shit… The ceiling up here was too low for anyone who was taller than six feet. It was also hotter than hell in the summer when all the heat from the building crawled up into my bedroom.

My new bed was made. I’d splurged after my breakup and bought a new one, and I made it every morning. Shawn had always “forgotten” and called me a neat freak for giving a crap.

Stop thinking about him, you whiny fuck.

I winced and pulled my hoodie and tee over my head.

Hot shower. Maybe it would help.