“Then don’t ask,” I said softly. “Just don’t shut the door.”
He looked at me like I’d handed him something sacred. Something breakable. His fingers found mine, hesitant and slow, and I laced them together without hesitation. Held on like it meant something. Like it was already more than it should have been.
Maybe I was already falling. Maybe I’d already fallen. But I didn’t tell him that. Instead, I held him like he wasn’t broken. Like he wasn’t disappearing. Like this moment, this fragile, aching now, was enough.
Maybe caring for him wasn’t about saving him. Maybe it was just showing up—about not being another person who walked away when it mattered most. Even when he couldn’t ask me to stay.
But as I sat there with his fingers laced through mine, his weight leaning into my shoulder like it already belonged there, I realized something else too. I wasn’t just staying for him anymore.
I was staying because the thought of leaving now felt worse than whatever this was becoming.
CHAPTER 9
ELLIOT
The bass hit before I saw the fire or the amount of people that had gathered around in the cove. It rolled like thunder across the cliffs, vibrating up my spine, making my teeth rattle. Somewhere beyond the jagged brush and tangled dune grass, the cove exploded with life. Torches burned in crooked lines up the dunes, and the bonfire licked the sky like it wanted to devour the stars. Music thudded through speakers balanced on rocks, spilling out distorted vocals and synthetic chaos.
EDM. The worst kind of music. But I wasn’t here for the tunes.
Didn’t notice the heat of bodies, the glow of torches, the smell of smoke and salt. It all blurred together into one jagged pulse, and I felt like I was moving through someone else’s fever dream, untethered, weightless, but sinking at the same time.
I was here to run. From the house. Fromhim. And that ever-present ache in my chest. Especially from the way Anthony had looked at me this morning, like I was fragile. Or something to be handled with gloves, worse yet, something to be pitied. That look clung to me now, gnawing at my ribs. It was the kind of care that left you more broken because you wanted more than he could—or would—give. My throat ached, tight with words I couldn’t say. Every breath reminded me how small I felt in the world without him. I could see them swaying and screaming, but they might as well have been ghosts. None of them knew me. None of them could reach me here. And maybe I didn’t want them to.
“I care about you, but not like that.”
Not like that. Those words carved into me, still echoing as the flames crackled and bodies swayed around the fire. Was I not enough? Too broken? Too young? Too much? My chest felt hollowed, as if every beat was a reminder of everything I had lost—Mom, Dad, Anthony—and the absence of any safe harbor to hold me. I wanted to scream at the stars, throw myself into the waves, anything to escape the gravity of it all.
His body had wanted me. I wasn’t hallucinating that. He'dreactedto me—his cock thick and heavy against my thigh, his hands lingering. And yet…not like that.
My skull emptied as I shook away my spiraling thoughts and stared out at the carnage before me. I could almost feel her hands on my shoulders, steady and warm. Instead, there was only the cold wind and the slap of waves against rocks. I was untethered, adrift in more ways than one, and the memory of her care made the ache in my chest sharper, crueler. Kegs overflowed. Someone screamed with giddy abandon as they leapt from the rocks into the freezing surf. Smoke twisted into the sky in thick gray spirals. Laughter cracked too loudly, like bones breaking under pressure.
I felt invisible amidst all the chaos, like no one could see the pieces of me scattered across the sand. I wanted to vanish, to become one with the waves, to let the cold take the hollow ache that burned behind my ribs. And yet, even in this chaos, the memory of Anthony lingered. The way he’d looked at me this morning, tender and distant all at once. The words “notlike that” hammered in my skull, each repetition fracturing me further.
This wasn’t a place for healing. It was a place for losing yourself. Because healing implied a version of me that wasn’t already ruined. And I couldn’t see that version anymore. I couldn’t even imagine what he looked like. This was a chance to become someone else for the night, and that was the most appealing thing about it.
A girl with smeared eyeliner and glitter crusted across her cheeks stumbled into me. “You’re broody,” she said, giggling. “I like that. Want a hit?”
She held out a blunt like it was an offering to the gods. My hands shook as I reached for it. I didn’t know if I wanted the high, the distraction, or the permission to disappear for a while. Maybe all three.
The smoke clawed its way down my throat like razors. I hacked so hard my chest felt like it split in two. She laughed, cackling like we were in on some private joke. Maybe we were.
“Shit,” I rasped. “What the hell’s in that?”
“Painkillers and poor choices, probably.” Her smile faded into something almost sad as she looked me over. “Drink?”
“Sure.”
She didn’t wait for permission, dragging me by the arm toward the fire pit. My sneakers slid in the sand, but I didn’t resist. It was easier this way—to be led somewhere than to stand still and drown.
“I’m Mia.” She grabbed two red cups and poured in an interesting mix of alcohol. Tequila. Vodka. Something blue and evil looking. It fizzed when it all mixed together.
“What’s in that?”
She smiled, teeth too white under the firelight. “It’s my special. I call itForgotten Dreams.”
It smelled like something I’d regret in the morning as I heaved my guts up, but I took it anyway. My vision wobbled as the liquor hit. The fire flickered, faces stretched, and the music seemed to pulse inside my skull. I wasn’t sure if I was laughing or crying, or maybe both at the same time. It felt like nothing else mattered except the dizzy spin of the world beneath my feet.
Yet, even in this numb swirl, Anthony was there. Behind every laughter, every fire-lit shadow, his absence pressed into me. I wanted him to appear at the edge of the flames, to reach for me and make the ache stop—but he didn’t, and the void only stretched wider.
