I knock on Bo’s bedroom door, and Chelsea answers.
“Hey, good morning. You okay?” She twists her wild curls into a top knot and yawns.
“No. I’m running late, and Silas is already gone. I hate to ask, but do you think you can give me a ride down to the weather center building?” I hold my hands together like I’m praying.
“Why don’t you just take my car? I don’t have class until thisafternoon. Will you be back by then?” She walks over to the small desk in the room and gets her keys out of her crossbody bag she always wears.
“Yes, I have one class and a thirty-minute lab, and then I should be back by, like, twelve fifteen. Does that work for you?”
Bo is lying in bed, shirtless, and I suddenly feel like I’m intruding.
“Morning, Brooke.” He waves.
“Hey. Sorry to wake y’all.”
“No worries, seriously.” He smiles.
“Yeah, that works fine for me. Here you go.” She hands me her keys.
“Thanks, Chelsea. I really appreciate it.”
“Where’s Silas this early?” Bo calls after me.
“I’m not sure. I think he has some meetings today between classes. I didn’t see him before he left.” I’m not about to tell anyone about what happened yesterday. No one was here, and I’m gonna leave it at that.
“Oh, right. I think he mentioned something about meeting with his agent today.”
“Okay, I gotta go get dressed. Thank you so much, Chels. I owe you!”
I make quick work of getting ready, and by the time I jump into the car, I have fifteen minutes to make it five miles down the road, which seems doable, but everyone and their brother seems to be walking to class and holding up every light.
Shit.
Once I make it through the busiest part of campus, the noise fades and my thoughts drift—inevitably—back to Silas.
I know why I’ve been holding back. I’ve known all along.
Giving myself fully to him would mean letting go of the careful balance I’ve spent years perfecting. It would mean admitting that I don’t always have everything under control. That I can want something this badly and still be terrified of it at the same time.
Loving him isn’t the scary part.
Losing myself is.
I’ve built my life on being steady. On not needing too much. On not asking for more than I can handle. I watched what happened when the ground fell out from under my family, and somewhere along the way I decided that if I stayed guarded enough—measured enough—I could keep everything from collapsing again.
Silas doesn’t fit into that plan.
He asks for honesty without pressure. He offers support without conditions. And every time I let myself lean into him, even just a little, it feels so easy it scares me. Like if I stop bracing, I might never want to start again.
So I’ve kept parts of myself tucked away. Not because I don’t feel enough—but because I feel too much.
Because giving myself to him fully would mean trusting that this won’t end the way my parents’ marriage did. That choosing happiness doesn’t automatically mean paying for it later.
I grip the steering wheel and close my eyes for a second. Breathe. I know this feeling. I won’t let it take over.
Five.The dashboard lights. The small crack in the windshield. My reflection in the rearview mirror. A tree swaying outside. The clock on the radio.
Four.The seat beneath me. The cool air from the vent. The wheel under my palms. The ring on my finger.
