Michael
Are you just going to ignore me now?
I don’t understand what the fuck your problem is.
After all these years, you’re going to ghost me?!
Ayden, I swear to god if you don’t fucking respond to me.
I’d silenced my phone when we got to the bar, because I just wanted to focus on the present. I knew it was stupid to look at it while there.
Fucking idiot, Ayden.
Michael, I’m out right now. I’ll text you later.
I shouldn’t have texted him back in the bathroom. I should have left it alone until I got home because he immediately called me… and I ignored it.
Ignored him…
I’d quickly ordered the Uber from the bathroom and turned my phone off with shaky hands.
I know ignoring him like that is going to hurt me in the future. Still, the fear of not being able to hide whatever happened on that call outweighed the consequences of ignoring him.
Didn’t matter. Keoni may as well have physically punched me before we got into the Uber. I would’ve preferred it—at least bruises fade. Ice works on swelling. But the kind of blow he dealt me? It cracked something inside that can’t be patched with bandages.
My mind feels shattered, and no amount of glue will ever make it whole again. I hope I’ll be able to salvage the cracks into something worth keeping—or risk falling further into the hollow black hole I’ve carved for myself.
When the car rolls to a stop at the cabin, Keoni’s out before I can even open my door, and storming into Wildhart without so much as a glance back. I don’t follow. Instead, I veer left, walk straight to the lakeshore, and stop with my back to the water. For half a second, I wish something down there would reach up, drag me under, and replace this constant suffocating drama with a different kind of silence.
My hand trembles as I look down at the phone clenched in my palm.
Go inside. Deal with it in the morning.
I want to trust my inner voice, but it hasn’t led me anywhere good in the last eight years.
Turning on the device, I wait for service to show me how many texts he fired at me. But… I’m met with nothing. No new messages.
This silence terrifies me more than anything else could.
I open the phone app, tap Michael’s number, and hit dial.
My heartsummersaults with every… single… ring.
On and on. No answer.
A chill rips through me, and it has nothing to do with the cold night air.
When the line finally clicks to voicemail, it’s like a dam breaks—every conversation we’ve ever had comes rushing back at once, crashing over me in jagged, merciless waves.
Everysingleword.
“You bring this on yourself, Ayden.”
“If you’d just fucking listen, it wouldn’t have to be this way.”
“Sometimes I wonder if you enjoy being talked to like this. Do you enjoy being degraded? It seems to be the only way you’ll hear me. Some sorta kink with you?”
“Fucking useless!”
