Because I hate that he’s right.
Because my chest hurts even thinking about it.
“Tristan,” I say quietly, “I’m not ready.”
“I know,” he says. “Just don’t wait until it’s too late.”
He exhales sharply.
“Okay. Go back to sleep, superstar. You’re gonna wake up with a million new followers.”
I groan. “That sounds like hell.”
“Nah,” he says with a grin I can hear. “It sounds like destiny.”
He hangs up.
And I’m left staring at the ceiling of a Boston hotel room, heart pounding, mind spinning, life tilting under my feet.
Netflix.
Agents.
Lawyers.
Kids looking up to me.
And Leo…
Leo.
I pull the blankets up to my chin and whisper into the dim room:
“What is happening to my life?”
Chapter 18
LEO
The rink downtown is packed,lit up like a snow globe somebody shook too hard.
Fairy lights strung between lampposts.
Christmas music echoing off brick buildings.
Kids slipping, tourists laughing, everyone wrapped in red scarves and holiday cheer.
I am none of those things.
I’m standing at the edge of the ice with my hands shoved in my pockets, breath fogging out like smoke, watching couples skate hand-in-hand.
I should have stayed home.
Except I can’t sleep.
Can’t think.
Can’t breathe without thinking of her.
