“Don’t.”
“I have to.” She took another step. “I know you don’t want to see me. I know I shouldn’t be here, but I can’t keep pretending everything’s fine. I screwed up, okay? I know I did.”
Erin’s voice came out low. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“I couldn’t just do nothing anymore.” Jamie’s voice cracked. “You won’t answer my calls. You won’t text back. I had to try.”
Erin turned then, finally looking at her. “You had to try?” she said. “That’s what this is?”
“I’m sorry.” Jamie’s chest hurt with it. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said her name on air. I should’ve protected you.”
“You can’t protect me from something you caused.”
Jamie winced. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like that. I was trying to do my job.”
“I know,” Erin said. “That’s what makes it worse.”
The air between them felt thick. Jamie took a small step closer, desperate. “I thought you’d understand.”
“I did,” Erin said, barely above a whisper. “And I was wrong.”
Jamie felt her throat tighten. “I never used you.”
Erin’s eyes flickered. “Then why did it feel like you did?”
“I don’t know,” Jamie said, voice breaking. “I thought we were on the same side.”
“That’s the problem,” Erin said. “We never were. You’re supposed to ask questions. I’m supposed to keep things safe. I forgot that.”
“I didn’t,” Jamie said, and the words came out fast, messy. “I just… when you said please, I froze. I didn’t know how to pick between being good at this and being good to you.”
Erin’s face softened for half a second before she looked away. “You shouldn’t have had to pick.”
Jamie stepped forward. “I love you.”
Erin flinched. “Don’t.”
“It’s true.”
“That’s the problem,” she said, same words as before but quieter now.
She opened the car door, slow and final. Jamie stood helpless as the taillights bled red across her shoes.
“Erin, please,” Jamie said one last time.
Erin didn’t look up. “Go home, Jamie.”
The door shut, sharp in the quiet. The red glow of Erin’s taillights disappeared down the street until there was nothing left but the hum of the lights above her. The quiet that followed was so complete it hurt.
Jamie stood there, frozen, hand half-raised like she could still reach for her. But the space between them had already filled in. There wasn’t anything left to touch.
Her chest tightened and then folded in on itself. The first sound that came out wasn’t a sob. It was smaller, sharper, like air catching on a bruise. When she finally breathed again, it turned into shaking.
She dropped to her knees before she knew she was falling. Asphalt pressed cold against her palms. She covered her face with both hands, trying to hold herself together, but her body had already decided not to listen. The tears came fast and ugly, the kind that felt more like panic than grief.
She didn’t know how long she stayed like that. Long enough for the wind to pick up. Long enough for her legs to go numb.
When she finally pushed herself up, she felt hollow. She opened her car door, slid into the driver’s seat, and stared through the windshield. The world looked tilted, blurred at the edges.
