Page 43 of Shut Up and Catch


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I slide into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and just… sit. Engine off. Radio silent. Nothing but the thud of my heartbeat and the weight of what I just said still pressing into my chest.

It’s time.

The words echo like a door creaking open, slow and reluctant, letting in air I didn’t realize I was suffocating without. Because I meant it. Because I finally fucking said it.

And now that I have… there’s only one person who comes to mind.

Luke.

Too bright. Too bold. Too fucking alive.

He’s chaos wrapped in glitter and confidence, and he’s younger than me by more than a handful of years. Hell,I’mnot even sure how old he is—twenty-one? Twenty-two? Just enough to make this all more complicated.

Just enough to make me question if I’m out of my depth.

I drag a hand over my face, pressing my palm hard to my mouth for a second.

Jesus.

This is a bad idea. Maybe the worst.

He’s cocky. Unapologetic. He lives in a world of midnights and hookups and not needing anyone—and I’m the one who doesn’t know how to need people anymore.

We’re not the same. And I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this.

But I am.

I keep remembering the way he looked at me after I kissed him. After I claimed him like I had any right to. And worse—I keep wondering what it would look like if he stayed. If I let him in, even just a little.

I shake my head, staring through the windshield at nothing.

You’re a few steps ahead of reality, old man.That voice in my head is Xavier’s. Wry. Gentle. Unforgiving.

Because the truth is, Luke probably doesn’t want athirty-two-year-old with too much baggage and too many locked doors. He probably just wanted to win the power game. To prove he could make me fall apart.

And I did.

God, I did.

But what if it wasn’t just a game? What if there’s something real there—sparking between the taunts and the tension, buried under the bruised heat of his kiss?

I exhale slowly, the ache in my chest sharper now.

I’ve wasted years waiting. Wasted them on a hope that never turned into healing. On a man who can’t remember my name. On a version of myself that died the day I let Xavier back on that field.

I can’t keep doing that. I can’t keep pretending I’m not lonely. That I don’t want…something.

Not just the relief Luke gives me. Not just the fire.

Connection. A future. Fucking laughter in a room that isn’t silent all the time.

But wanting something and being brave enough totryare two different things. Especially when I’m not sure I deserve it.

I start the car, gripping the wheel tight enough to make the leather groan.

The engine hums low beneath me. Familiar. Steady. Like it’s waiting for direction I haven’t given.

My GPS is blank. There’s no place Ihaveto be.