"Shit." The word grates out.
"Why? What's wrong?"
"I just..." I drag a heavy sigh, my voice fraying. "I need to talk to her, and I only have an hour before coach realizes I'm gone. Anyway, I'll go to the studio then—"
I pivot, but Sam grabs my arm, surprisingly strong for someone half-asleep.
"Hey, hold your horses." Her voice is sharper now, the haze gone from her eyes.
"What? Why?" I snap, already halfway to the door.
Sam exhales, long and heavy, like she's trying to summon patience. "Because Caroline has an audition this morning. An important one. For the Winter Showcase in December." She pauses, lets that sink in.
"She's been preparing for this for days. If you show up now—storming in all frantic—you'll distract her. Maybe even ruin her shot. You don't want that, Zach. Trust me. You'd only make things worse."
Her words punch through, and my body finally sags. I drag a hand down my face, raking through my already wrecked hair before collapsing onto Sam's bed. Air blows out of me in one long, miserable gust.
"I really messed up, Sam," I whisper. "And I don't know if I can ever fix this."
She slips beside me, her arm looping over my shoulders. Her head rests against me.
"I've heard."
That jerks me upright, just enough to catch her expression. "Wait—she told you?"
Sam's lips press together, then soften into something small, sad. She nods.
"When I came back here last night, she was still up. Still crying." Her voice falters, quiet but steady enough to carve right through me. "I've never seen Caroline cry like that, Zach. Not once."
Sam told me Caroline unloaded everything on her last night. All of it.
The shit I said. The stuff she overheard. Word for word.
Sam said she was sobbing so hard she could barely choke the story out. And hearing it back like that? Christ. It felt like someone jammed a stick straight through my ribs.
She told Sam how humiliating it was. How much it gutted her. How it stuck, like I tattooed those words on her forehead and branded her with the worst version of herself.
Three years later and she's still hurting because of it.
And I did that. Me. Her best friend. The guy who was supposed to have her back. The one person she should've felt safe with. Instead, I'm the asshole who took the knife and twisted it.
So yeah, crown me. MVP.Most Valuable Piece of Shit.The guy who managed to destroy the one person he swore he'd never hurt.
Now all I can see is her crying into Sam's shoulder, reliving every second of it because of me. And every tear, every sob — that's mine. My fault. My mess.
I blow out a heavy sigh, running both hands down my face like I could scrub the guilt off.
"Sam... I didn't mean it. Not one word." My voice cracks, hands curling in my hair like I can rip the memory out by the roots. A grunt slips through clenched teeth. "Those shitty things I said that day? That wasn't me."
My jaw locks, and I drag in a breath that rattles in my chest. "I mean—it was me, but... fuck." My head drops forward, shaking. "It wasn't the truth. Not even close."
My throat feels like sandpaper dragging every word out. "I've wanted to set it straight ever since last night — the second she finally told me why she ghosted me. To explain why it came out the way it did. But she kicked me out before I could even get a word in. Slammed the door in my face, and I can't even blame her for it."
My voice drops rough. "Now all I want is five minutes. Just five fucking minutes to tell her everything. To tell her I never meant to hurt her."
Sam shifts beside me, "Then why, Zach? Why'd you say it in the first place?"
Her voice cracks, frustration bleeding through. "I know you. I know how much she's always meant to you. And that—" she waves a hand, like even repeating it tastes sour "—that stuff you said... it was degrading. Cruel. Humiliating. Help me understand, because that's not the brother I know."
