“No.” I cut him off, shoving a hand in his face. “You want the truth? Yes, I’m angry. Angry enough to wipe that stupid grin you had on your face while you were singing. Angry enough to scratch up your dad’s car for stealing my parking spot. Angry enough to snap your guitar strings. You had no right to humiliate me like that in front of everyone. You had no right to sing that song. You had no right to leave me. Not then. Not like that. It’s been years, Vincent. Years. You ignored my calls, left me in agony, and now you show up asking if I care? Do you even see me anymore, or am I just a shadow in your rockstar life?”
I don’t realize what I’ve said until the words are already out. We’ve never fought like this before. “Do you really think I’m still holding a grudge? I don’t have the strength for that. I already know why you came back, and that’s all that matters now. I don’t have time to cry for you again. I did that enough. So let’s end this here. You’ll never explain, and I won’t force you. I’m tired of chasing you.”
And of blaming myself for your leaving.
Vincent stares at the floor, regret tightening his face. His hands stay buried in his jeans pockets, his plaid shirt hanging loose around him like armor.
“Nova, I—”
“Why did you leave?” I whisper, choking on the words. I rush to the staff room to grab my things. My keys rattle in my hands; I can’t even find the right one.
His footsteps close in. His presence warms my back. Then his hand brushes my shoulder, sending a shiver through me.
“May I?”
I nod, and he unlocks my locker with ease.
“The music program in Seattle was better than USF’s,” he finally says.
I give him a bitter half-smile, slinging my bag over my shoulder. “Sure, Cooper. Was it really so awful you had to run from your own city?”
“I didn’t run from San Francisco.” He sits on the bench, fiddling with one of the rings on his fingers.
“I know. You ran from me.”
I move toward the exit, headphones in hand. He rises, frustration carved into his face—my mirror.
“It’s not like that.” He reaches out, fingers brushing the air between us. I go rigid. I can’t let him touch me. Not without answers. Not without the truth. When did I stop trusting him?
I don’t interwine our fingers the I way used to, and he lets his hand fall.
“Are you sure?” I mutter, scrolling through my playlist. “I’m your best friend, right? No one—”
“Nobody knows me like you do. Nobody knows you like I do.” His defiance drains me. I don’t want to argue anymore. I can’t handle a fight with him.
“There are fries left in the oven, Cooper. Lock up and be here tomorrow at five-thirty. Keys are under the register.”
As I walk out, Bonnie Tyler’sTotal Eclipse of the Heartfills my ears. My eyes blur instantly. I crank the volume and hug myself against the night air until I find Maggie’s car. Inside, I collapse into the seat, blast the song on repeat, and curl up. A strangled scream tears out of me before the sobs come—loud, broken, unstoppable.
I wanted to cry the moment I saw him, to scream when he started singing. I wanted to run to him, to fall apart in his arms, but I couldn’t. It feels like we don’t understand each other anymore, and maybe the problem is me. Maybe I’ve changed too much. For five years, I thought the worst pain was living without him. But now he’s here, and it feels like he’s two hundred thousand miles away... this is what hell really is.
I don’t know how long I cry in the car. I just know that my heart steadies again when I park outside Steven’s bakery. When I walk in, I find him sliding macarons into the oven.
The moment the door shuts, I drop my bag and throw myself into his arms. I cling to him like I’ll never breathe again, soaking his white coat with tears and mascara.
Steven cups my face, peppering my cheeks with kisses. “What’s wrong, babe? Why are you crying? Did something happen at the restaurant? Did you fight with someone? Is it about your mom? Asher? Do you want to go home?”
“I just... saw a dead cat on the road and now I’m upset. That’s all.”
I kiss him, smearing lip gloss across his lips. He chuckles softly, pulling me tighter by the waist. When we part, his eyes tell me he doesn’t believe me. But he doesn’t ask anything more and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Do you want to talk? Or watch funny videos to forget?”
I shake my head. “I just want to be with you.”
“Then let’s finish cooking together, and I’ll drive you home. Okay?”
When he lingers ontogether, I smile, cup his face, and kiss every part of it. “I love you, Steve. You know that, right?”
“I love you too. You know that, right?”
