The thought of her twists fierce in my chest. Her trust. Her easy affection. The way she assumes I’ll be there for her.
Marcus doesn’t get to touch that.
I pick up my phone again and scroll back to the most recent message.
Marcus: Let’s meet today. Main Street. We can clear the air.
Clear the air.
Like this is a misunderstanding instead of a boundary violation wrapped in nostalgia.
My thumb hovers over the keyboard.
I don’t want to see him.
But I want him gone.
And I know, deep down, that he won’t leave just because I ignore him. Silence has never stopped men like Marcus. It only gives them room to rewrite the story however they like.
No.
If this ends, it ends because I end it.
I type before I can talk myself out of it.
Delaney: Fine. One conversation. Main Street. Public. After that, you leave me alone.
The reply comes almost instantly.
Marcus: Thank you. I’ll be there in half an hour, outside the bakery.
The speed of it makes my skin crawl.
I lock my phone and press it face down on the dresser, breathing hard.
Okay.
I can do this.
I get dressed slowly. Jeans. Boots. A sweater that feels like armor. I pull my hair back, not because I owe him neatness, but because I don’t want anything in my way.
I pause in the hallway outside my room, listening.
Silas’s voice drifting from the kitchen, animated as ever. The smell of coffee reaches me.
I consider telling them.
Just blurting it out. Letting them come with me. Letting someone else hold the line.
But this is my fight.
And if I don’t do it myself, he’ll always think there’s still a door open.
I grab my jacket and slip out quietly, heart pounding all the way down the porch steps.
Main Street is already alive when I get there.
Tourists browsing shop windows. Locals loitering with coffee cups. The hum of normalcy makes my skin itch with the wrongness of what I’m about to do.
