Another paper. Another signature. Another person assuring me I was doing the right thing.

I honestly couldn’t give a shit less.

“Kis- Mr. Jones, it’s time for your afternoon meeting.”

I looked up from the stack of papers that I had only worked halfway through in six hours. “Yeah, fucking figures. Can’t get shit done around here without somebody getting in your way,” I muttered rebelliously. It was why I hadn’t wanted to get saddled with this job. I pushed out a sigh, dropping my head into my hands. “I’ll be right out, Clint. Thanks.”

“Hey… Kisten?”

There was a slight frown to my face as I heard the door click shut. I looked up to see that only Clint was left in the room. His hazel eyes were fixed on me, his expression a mix of fear and determination.

“What do you need?” I asked warily, resting my hands flat on my desk, next to the letter opener. More than one of my close acquaintances had tried to kill me in recent weeks.

Clint slowly put his hands up to show me he was unarmed, letting me relax. “I just… Damn it, I need to tell you something, Kisten.”

“Fine. Tell me, then,” I said shortly.

Clint dropped something onto my desk; it was heavy enough that the impact made me jump. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited. Worry snuck in past my suspicion, and I slowly lowered my gaze to the book he’d let slam down on top of the piles of paper on my desk.

Of course, I recognized it the second I saw it. The Fire Inside was the first book Joe had released under his real name. The one I had helped him with. I had a very well thumbed copy with dozens of different colored Post Its that could bring memories of him swimming in my mind as I sat alone in the huge house I had inherited.

“The fuck, Clint?” I pushed the book toward him with a stony expression.

He didn’t drop his arms. “Look at the inside cover.”

“God damn it, Clint…” I sighed, irritated. I knew there was no way I could get around it, so I lifted up the front cover to look at the inside.

I froze as I saw the writing scrawled across that title page. It was so god damned familiar that it made my heart hurt. “H-how-” I stammered, my fingers tracing the looping curves of Joe’s signature. I had been trying to get a signed copy for months, but he was too famous at the moment for me to be able to get my hands on one without going to a signing. And that, as Elizabeth had made very clear to me, was impossible.

“I went to one of his book signings,” Clint said softly, leaning forward and putting his hands on my desk.

“Y-you what?!” I might have screeched, a little- a lot, high pitched, shoving my chair back from my desk so violently I hit the wall hard enough to make my teeth click together.

Clint leaned over my desk, an eager light in his eyes. “You heard me. I went to one of his book signings. I got halfway to the table before they noticed me, and those fat security guards were no good. I got all the way up to that table, Kisten.”

“Y-y-you…”

“I talked to him, Kisten. I talked to Joe.”

My heart thrashed in my mouth, and I couldn’t talk for fear it would leap out if I did. He… he had talked to Joe. After all that time I’d tried to find a way around Elizabeth’s security before I finally gave in, and Clint had just strolled right the fuck up to him like it was nothing.

“I mean, he punched me first, and for a while there it was a little iffy-”

“Wait, he punched you?” I repeated, shocked.

Clint laughed, shaking his head. “I know it sounds weird, Joe touching somebody even to punch them. Well… I suppose it doesn’t sound too weird to you.” He smirked at me, and I could have punched him myself again.

“He punched you.” I just couldn’t get past that part, my eyes wide, a slow smile slowly blooming across my face. “You fucking go, Joe!”

“Hey,” Clint complained, pouting at me. “It actually really fucking hurt. I’m not kidding, that man throws a wicked right hook.”

“Yeah, I know,” I said, a fond note in my voice.

Clint’s pout turned into a smile. “But I talked to him after he punched me. Elizabeth told us, Kisten, she told us how she still had that phone that you sent all those messages to.”

“... what?” I froze in the act of rolling my chair back forward to the desk.

“Yeah! Elizabeth kept the phone as some kind of stupid fucking memento, and it’s just been collecting your voicemails for a year. She charged it up while I was explaining to Joe what happened.

“Listen, Kisten, I think you might really have a chance here!” Clint got more excited with every word, his hand gestures getting so wild it was a miracle he wasn’t knocking things off my desk. “I know what hotel room they’re staying at, and I swear to god Joe was warming up last night. Kisten, you could-”

“No.” It was such a simple word, coming out short and flat. I stood up out of my chair, and my face was stone.

“No, Clint. I said my goodbyes several months ago. I don’t need… I don’t need to deal with this again. If I have to go through that, if I have to be abandoned again, I’m not going to be able to handle it.” I turned my back on him, collecting the papers I had already signed. “That can’t happen right now, Clint. I have to run the business. I can’t worry about my heart, too. That’s not the way this works.”

“Kisten…” Clint put a hand on my shoulder.

I shrugged it off immediately, turning around and shooting him my usual charming smile. “Don’t worry about me, Clint. I don’t care if he heard my messages or not. I don’t think I ever really meant him to hear them, or I would have tried a lot harder to get his active number.

“Listen, Clint, just do me a favor? Let it be. Joe looks happy up there, signing books and talking to his fans. It’s where he belongs, and that’s where we should leave him.”

I rested my hand on top of the signed copy for a moment, taking in a deep breath and staring at it like I could remember the exact sight of it for the rest of my life. Then I picked it up and handed it to Clint. “Here. Give this to some kid who dreams of being a writer one day. They need it far more than I do.”

“K-Kisten, wait-”

“No, Clint. I’ve made up my mind,” I said firmly. “It’s for the best of both of us. Joe deserves more than what he can get from me. I don’t deserve somebody that brilliant, somebody that fucking… god damn it, I don’t even know what to call him. Perfect, maybe. I don’t know that anybody can ever deserve him, but he definitely deserves more than me.”

“So,” I turned to put a hand on Clint’s shoulder, smiling softly, genuine, “Just… let it drop, okay?”

Clint dropped his gaze. “It’s… um, well, it’s a little late for that.”

“You can just return the book,” I said brightly, striding across my office to the door.

“No, Kisten, you don’t understand! Don’t-”

His warning came too late. I pulled open the door, and my smile was met with bright blue eyes that had been able to melt my soul before. Eyes that still could. Eyes that were full of tears as Joe took a step back from me.

“Y-you… I came all the way here to see you, after listening to that message. And the first thing you do is tell Clint get rid of me?” He laughed, and it was almost hysterical. “I don’t know why I fucking bothered. Fuck you both. I’ve had enough, for the last god damn time. Just leave me alone. For god’s sake, leave me the fuck alone.”

He was sobbing by the end, Clint’s plan backfiring in the worst way possible. I was left staring after him, again, the shock of hearing him swear barely numbing the cuts the broken shards of my heart were leaving inside me.