He breathed out, unsteady, like he was forcing himself to hang up before he lost his nerve.
“I’m sorry. For everything. I miss you so much it hurts. And I just needed you to know.”
The line went dead. No goodbye. No plea. Just his truth, finally spoken out loud.
My hand trembled as I lowered the phone. The world carried on—street noise outside, my coffee machine gurgling in the kitchenette—but I sat there in bed, heart split wide open, with Dare’s voice echoing in my ears like a promise I never thought he’d keep.
For the first time in weeks, I missed home. Not the place, just the feeling.
I listened again. Then again. The third time, my breathing was too loud to hear, so I replayed it once more, holding my breath as if that might help. It didn’t. By the fifth listen, I didn’t even realize I’d hit play again. His words tore off the bandage of the wound I thought had started to heal. The phone slipped from my hand.
The apartment door clicked shut behind me before I knew where I was going. No jacket. No plan. Just my heart rattling around in my chest like it didn’t belong to me anymore.
Did it ever, though? Or had it always been his?
His voice still rang in my head, even though the message had ended twenty minutes ago.
“I love you. I don’t know how to say it better than that. Just—God, Tru. I miss you. I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.”
He’d sounded wrecked. I didn’t know what I expected—that he’d never say it out loud? That he’d keep it locked away forever, thinking he had to?
I never thought knowing he’d come out would hurt more than wondering if he ever would.
The river wasn’t far, so that’s where I ended up. I leaned against the railing, gripping my phone as if I let go, I’d lose him again. The water below was dark and messy and full of movement, kind of like him. Kind of like us.
I’d wanted this, hadn’t I? For him to say it, to admit it. But now that he had, I felt raw.
He said he loved me. Admitted it to our parents. Said it like a truth he couldn’t swallow anymore, like it choked him until saying it out loud was the only way to breathe.
It was everything I’d ever wanted. So why did it feel like goodbye?
I thought about calling him back. But I couldn’t. Not yet. I didn’t know what to say. If I acknowledged what it cost him to say it, to come out, did that mean the ball was in my court now? Did I have to leave New York? Squash the dreams that had taken root inside me since I’d been here?
I pressed the phone to my chest, hoping he could feel it beating from miles away.
“I love you too,” I whispered.
It didn’t fix anything. It didn’t erase the years or the hurt. But it was true. It had always been true.
I sat on a bench until the sky began to lighten, letting it all wash over me—the love, the fear, the fact that I was learningwho I was without my soulmate beside me. I missed him so much I could barely breathe.
By the time the sun began cutting through the haze, I was cold and a little numb. I didn’t remember deciding to call, but my thumb scrolled to Mom’s contact, and before I could think, I pressed it.
She answered on the second ring, cheerful as ever. “Well, hey there, stranger.”
“Hey,” I said, my voice rough. “Sorry, it’s early.”
“You kidding? I’ve been up since six. John decided to grill peaches for breakfast. Because apparently that’s a thing now.”
“That’s… ambitious.”
She laughed softly, then her voice gentled, slipping into Mom Mode. “You okay, baby?”
I didn’t know how to answer. So I didn’t. Instead, I asked, “Is everyone okay? Dare?”
Her voice softened even more. “He’s okay, sweetheart. Just quiet. Been moping a bit since he got home.”
I bit my lip. “I got his voicemail.”
