I laugh again, harder this time, even as Sara extracts another splinter from my palm. Something tight in my chest loosens just a fraction. Harper’s ridiculous revenge fantasies are exactly what I need right now—someone to be furious on my behalf when I’m too confused to know what I’m feeling.
I manage a smile. “I don’t think we can afford a mariachi band.”
Harper throws herself into the armchair, legs dangling over one side. “Fine, we’ll workshop it. But he can’t waltz back after five years like nothing happened. Like he didn’t break you into pieces and then disappear.”
Sara gently cleans my other palm, her touch feather-light. “Five years changes people,” she says quietly.
Harper makes a noise like an angry cat. “Are you serious right now? You’re defending him?”
“I’m not defending anyone.” Sara doesn’t look up from my hand. “He was what, twenty-one back then? Barely out of college. People grow up.”
“Please.” Harper sits up straighter, eyes blazing. “Guys like him don’t change. They just get better at hiding who they really are.”
“That’s not fair,” Sara says, finally meeting Harper’s gaze. “You don’t even know his reasons for coming back.”
“I don’t care about his reasons,” Harper shoots back, voice rising. “I remember what it was like when he left. I was the one here, holding her while she sobbed all night. I was the one making sure she ate something, anything. I was the one?—”
“I was here too,” Sara interrupts, her voice still calm but edged with steel. “And yes, it was terrible. But holding onto anger for five years doesn’t help anyone.”
Harper gestures wildly, her voice climbing. Sara maintains her steady tone as she finishes wrapping fresh gauze around my palms. The splinters are gone but now my chest hurts in a different way. I can’t catch my breath. The room feels too small, too hot, and the mingled scents of dinner and tea are suddenly overwhelming.
“Shouldn’t we at least hear him out?” Sara asks, securing the last bandage with medical tape.
“Absolutely not,” Harper fires back. “He lost that privilege when he chose Seattle over her. He made his choice five years ago. He doesn’t get to unmake it because he’s having regrets.”
“People deserve second chances,” Sara says.
“Not everyone does.”
Their words ricochet back and forth above my head, and suddenly I can’t take it anymore. I stand up so abruptly that both of them freeze mid-argument.
“I—I can’t do this right now,” I say, my voice shaking. “I need a minute.”
I don’t wait for a response. I turn and walk down the hallway to my bedroom, closing the door behind me with a soft click that sounds louder than it should. I lean my back against it, then slowly slide down until I’m sitting on the floor.
Mia lifts her head from her bed in the corner, brown eyes instantly worried. She stands immediately and pads over to press her warm, solid body against my side. I wrap my arm around her and bury my fingers in her soft fur.
“I’m okay,” I whisper, but my heart is racing. “I’m okay.”
But I’m not okay. Harper is furious on my behalf. Sara thinks people can change. And me? I want to protect myself, but I also want to know why he really came back. The past is full of pain. The future is murky. And I’m stuck somewhere in between, not knowing which way to move.
Mia rests her head in my lap, her weight anchoring me to the present. Outside my door, I can still hear Harper and Sara’s voices, quieter now, but no less intense.
I close my eyes and try to breathe.
I can’t sleep. Car headlights sweep across my ceiling as I lie in bed staring at nothing. My clock reads 11:17 p.m., the red numbers too bright when I blink. For hours, I’ve been replaying everything. Harper’s fury, Sara’s hope, the sound of Zayn saying my name, his promise that he won’t give up. Mia lifts her head from the foot of my bed, sensing I’m awake. Her eyes catch the glow from the street lamp outside my window. I sit up.
“Want to go for a ride, girl?” I whisper. Her tail thumps against the comforter. She loves midnight adventures, no matter how late.
I pull on jeans and a hoodie in the dark, grab my keys, and ease my door open. The apartment is quiet now. Harper and Sara stopped arguing hours ago. All I hear is the refrigerator’s low hum and Sara’s white noise machine whirring behind her closed door. Mia pads silently behind me as we slip through the living room and out the front door.
The night air hits my face, cool and damp from the ocean. Mia leaps into the passenger seat of my car like it’s her designated spot. It basically is. She’s ridden shotgun on so many sleepless nights when my brain won’t shut off, when I need to drive until the thoughts quiet down.
I start the engine and point the car toward the coast road without consciously deciding to. The town is sleeping now,empty streets bathed in orange lamplight. The 24-hour diner glows neon blue at the edge of town, just two truckers visible inside nursing coffee. The gas station sits deserted and eerie under its fluorescent lights.
Mia presses her nose to the window, watching the world slide past. The radio plays some melancholy song about regret and second chances. I snap it off. I’m already drowning in my own regrets without the soundtrack.
After a while, I turn onto the narrow access road for Cliffside Trail. My headlights illuminate the weathered wooden sign, beaten down by years of salt air. The parking lot is empty, which doesn’t surprise me. Only teenagers looking for privacy come here after dark, and it’s a school night. Technically the trail closes at sunset, but there’s no gate to stop anyone from passing after.
