I don’t know how long I stay there, curled in on myself, my tears soaking into the fabric of my sleeve. But eventually, there’s a soft knock at the door.
“Go away,” I whisper, my voice hoarse.
The door opens anyway, and I look up to see Jake standing there, his expression caught somewhere between concern and hesitation.
“I thought I heard…” he trails off, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
I turn away, wiping at my face. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” he says quietly.
The words break something in me, and I choke out a laugh that’s more sob than humor. “What gave it away?”
Jake crosses the room, his movements careful, like he’s afraid I might shatter if he gets too close. He sits on the edge of the small table in front of me, his hands clasped in front of him. Sage and green tea hang softly in the air between us, his musk reminding me of safety and love. Echoes of a past I didn't hold onto.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks.
I shake my head, my throat too tight to speak.
We sit in silence for a moment, everything we’ve left unsaid filling the space between us.
“Sometimes,” he says, his voice low, “it helps to let it out. To stop pretending you’re okay when you’re not.”
The vulnerability in his tone catches me off guard, and I look up to find him watching me, his eyes softer than I’ve seen in years.
“I’m trying,” I whisper. “But it’s hard. Being here, with all of you… it’s harder than I thought it would be.”
Jake nods, his gaze dropping to his hands. Then he fishes out his pack of cigarettes and lights one. “It’s hard for us too,” he admits through an exhale.
The honesty in his words is a balm to the ache in my chest; I feel like maybe I’m not as alone in this as I thought.
He doesn’t move to leave, and the silence stretches between us. The tip of his cigarette burns bright with each inhale.
“When did it all go so wrong?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
Jake exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Maybe the second we made you choose. Maybe even before that. When we got it in our heads that your acting was a threat to our relationship.”
I blink at him, startled by the admission. His shoulders sag, the regret visible in the way he holds himself. He snuffs out the butt, his eyes finding me again.
“We were stupid, Ash,” he continues. “Young and selfish. We thought… I don’t know what we thought. That we could force you to pick us and everything would work out. But it didn’t. And we lost you.”
I can’t stop the tear that slips down my cheek. “You didn’t just lose me. I lost all of you, too.”
He looks up, his gaze meeting mine, and for a moment, the walls between us dissolve.
“I miss it,” I say softly, the words tumbling out before I can stop them. “The way it used to be. Before all of this.”
Jake leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “I miss it too. More than I can put into words.”
The vulnerability in his voice cracks something open inside me, and I feel myself leaning toward him, drawn to the faint thread of connection that still exists between us. Craving it in a way I can’t hide.
“What do we do now?” I ask, my voice trembling.
His lips twitch in a faint, bittersweet smile. “Hell if I know. But maybe… we start with this. Just talking. Just being honest. It’s a start, right?”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Yeah. It’s a start.”
Jake shifts, standing up slowly. For a moment, I think he’s going to leave, but instead, he reaches out, his hand hesitating before brushing against mine.
