“I’m done, Brandon. I’m not going to beg you to love me the way I deserve. And I’m definitely not going to let you minimize my dreams to keep yours alive.”
Scoffing, he throws his hands up. “This is ridiculous. You’ll regret this.”
“No. I won’t.”
Brandon shakes his head, his jaw clenched as he grabs his keys from the counter. “You’re making a mistake,” he says flatly, then walks out the door without another word.
The sound of it slamming behind him echoes through the apartment like a final goodbye.
I don’t move right away, just stand there, staring at the closed door, feeling a hundred different things press in on me at once: anger, sadness, disbelief. But beneath it all, there’s something else growing stronger.
Freedom.
I slowly sit down on the edge of the bed, letting out a shaky breath. The suitcase beside me is already half-zipped, packed tight with everything I’m taking back home. I glance around the room at the life I’ve built here over the past five years. A string of fairy lights still hanging across the wall that I have to take down tomorrow. The framed degrees above the desk. The skincare shelves I installed myself. Each cornerholds a memory, but suddenly they all feel like they belong to someone else.
This apartment has been my entire world since my first year of graduate school. I’ve studied here, cried here, fallen in love and—somewhere along the way—lost myself here.
And through it all, I’ve missed out on so much.
I picture my nieces and nephew, how much they’ve grown in the time I’ve been away. I’ve watched one of them take their first steps and blow out birthday candles through a phone screen. I’ve missed dance recitals, school plays, Sunday dinners. My chest aches just thinking about it.
And now Noah has a baby named Everly. I still get emotional every time I look at the picture he sent of her tiny fingers wrapped around his thumb. My big brother’s a dad, and I want to be there for that. For all of it.
It’s time to go home.
I rise to my feet and do one last walkthrough, checking the corners of the room to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything. Every drawer closed; every box sealed. My eyes linger on the mirror above the dresser—on the reflection of a woman who has changed more than she realized.
I put away the last of my things and finish zipping the suitcase closed.
Tomorrow, I’m heading home to Honey Springs.
To family, to friends, to the version of myself I’ve missed.
To the life I’ve been dreaming about for years.
And this time, I’m doing it on my terms.
Chapter One
Esteban
“¡Puñeta!” I yell the second the pain shoots up from my pinky finger.
I grab my left hand and squeeze it tight like that’s going to magically make the pain disappear. “Me cago en ná', carajo,” I mutter through gritted teeth, cursing everything around me.
It feels like I snapped the damn thing in half. The pounding in my finger is brutal—sharp, hot, relentless. I look up at the ceiling of my brand-new house, trying to breathe through it. Deep, even breaths. In. Out. Focus on anything but the pain.
Butfuck, this hurts so damn bad.
My bedroom is empty, echoing with the kind of silence that makes you aware of every breath you take. The walls are painted a soft, calming gray—at least that was the idea when I picked the color. Right now, it feels like nothing helps. Sunlight spills through the tall windows, hitting the dark hardwood floors and bouncing off the clean surfaces. Theblack ceiling fan spins lazily, like it has no idea I’m standing here about to lose a finger.
“Dude, are you okay?” Austin’s voice comes from the hallway, laced with concern and just a touch of amusement.
I let out a frustrated sigh, still gripping my hand like my life depends on it. “What do you think?” I mutter.
He steps into the room, eyebrows raised. “I heard you saying some pretty words in Spanish from the living room,” he says with a smirk. “Thank God I didn’t bring Adrian today—you would’ve expanded his vocabulary real fast.”
Adrian is his stepson and an incredible little dude. He stops when he sees my face, and then his eyes drop to my hand. “Is it bad?”
