Dad nodded. “I know. And I’m not saying it’ll be easyto fix. But if you love him, and what you have is worth salvaging…” He shrugged. “Then damn it, don’t waste more time.”
I stared down at my phone in my hand. It felt heavier than it should. “He might not pick up.”
“Then leave a message. Or write him something. Whatever it is, say it. Because you don’t get forever to speak your heart.”
The grill was cold. Fireworks burst in the distance, but none of it touched me like this did.
“Thanks,” I said quietly.
He nodded. “I’m proud of you, Dare.”
I swallow against the lump rising in my throat. “You sure?”
“Hell yeah. Took me half a lifetime to figure myself out. You’re doing it a lot faster.”
The ache in my chest lightened—still there, but not strangling.
Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to tell Tru everything.
CHAPTER 41
TRU
This time, we don’t run from the fire. We build something from it.
The morning lightcut through the blinds as if it were out for blood. My head throbbed—not from alcohol, but from too much feeling stuffed into too small a space.
I rolled over and groped for my phone without opening my eyes, thumbing the screen out of habit. Just checking notifications. Nothing big.
1 missed call. Voicemail from Dare.
My heart stuttered. I sat up too fast, and the room tilted around me. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath until I pressed the voicemail to my ear, bracing myself—wondering if he was about to break my heart again, or somehow tape it back together. With Dare, you never knew.
The recording clicked. His voice came out quiet and raw,stripped of sarcasm or armor. Just him. And hearing that voice—unfiltered, familiar—hurt more than I expected.
“Hey. Uh… I don’t even know if I should be calling, but?—”
There was a pause. Background noise filtered through: laughter, a burst of fireworks. He was outside somewhere.
“I told them. Our parents. About me. About us.”
A shaky laugh escaped him, half disbelief, half nerves.
“And they… they took it great. Like, really great. Mom hugged me and said she already knew. My dad just nodded and said, ‘Took you long enough’.”
Another short, uncertain laugh. “Can you believe that? All this time, I was terrified, losing sleep, beating myself up, and for what? For nothing. They were just waiting for me to show up as me.”
A scrape of movement followed, maybe his hand over his face.
“God, Tru. I wasted so much time being scared. Of them. Of myself. Of what it meant to love you. I thought I was protecting something—my family, my future—but I was just… hiding. And I don’t want to hide anymore.”
He exhaled long and low. “You can probably hear the fireworks. It’s stupid, but I guess I wanted to tell you under the same kind of sky we used to watch.”
Another pause. “I saw the picture you posted. You looked happy. I want that for you. I really do. Even if it’s not with me. But, God, Tru?—”
His voice cracked, and I felt it pinch my heart painfully.
“I hope it is. Because I love you. I think I’ve loved you since we were kids, even when I was too much of a cowardto admit it. I didn’t know how to love you right, but I’m trying now. Please tell me I’m not too late.”
