She turned our lives into a story. Gave us the ending we never got.
And now she’s back. Real and present and kissing me in parking lots and texting me about fictional sex scenes at two in the morning.
I don’t know what comes next. The hurt is still there, underneath the hope. The fear that she might leave again. The uncertainty about whether any of this can actually work—whether we can rebuild what we lost or if we’re just setting ourselves up for another fall.
But lying here in the dark, her taste still on my lips and her words on my screen, I can’t regret today.
Whatever we’re building, I want to see where it goes.
She’s worth the risk.
She always was.
Chapter 11
Cara
I’m elbow-deep in Grandma’s kitchen sink, scrubbing a pan that definitely doesn’t need scrubbing, when my phone buzzes on the counter.
I’ve been like this all morning—restless, unable to settle. Yesterday with Lucas keeps replaying in my head. The way he looked at me when I told him about my books. The kiss in the parking lot.I didn’t want it to end, he said. Neither did I.
I don’t know what happens now. With him. With the other two.
My phone buzzes again.
Unknown:Hey. It’s Theo. Lucas gave me your number. Hope that’s okay.
I stare at the message. Then I stare at it some more.
Another message pops up.
Unknown:I know I messed up. Walking out like that. I’m sorry.
Unknown:Lucas said your date went well yesterday. He seemed really happy.
Unknown:I was wondering if maybe I could see you today? If you’re not too busy. No pressure or anything.
I smile despite myself. That’s so Theo—apologizing first, then fumbling through asking for what he wants. Even in high school, he was the one who’d trip over his own words while Lucas calculated and Nate brooded.
Unknown:I have something I want to show you. If you want. Only if you want.
Unknown:Sorry, that’s a lot of texts. I’ll stop now.
“Who’s texting you?” Grandma appears at my elbow, peering at my phone screen with zero shame.
“Theo.”
“Theo?” Her face softens. “Always liked that one. Good manners. Fixed my raised beds last spring without me even asking.”
“Grandma.”
“What? I’m just saying.” She pats my arm. “Go. The dishes will keep.”
“I haven’t said yes yet.”
“You’re going to.” She takes the pan from my hands. “You paid good money for those dates, remember? Might as well collect.”
I save his number and type back:I’d like that. What time?
