And… it’s too much. Too close.
“I should check on the buffet,” I murmur, even as I’m already pulling away.
Beckett’s hands fall away. “Everything okay?”
“Mhm. All fine.”
He knows that’s not true.
Because he knows me.
And the expression on his face, oh God, it nearly breaks me.
I turn and walk. Not toward the food stations. Not toward anyone who might stop me. I thread my way through the crowd like my body knows where to go even if my head doesn’t.
Nothing is wrong. No one needs me. There’s no excuse to make.
Except that I need air.
Because he’s saying the things he never said when they mattered—and I can feel them working, pressing at places I’ve already sealed shut. Places I had to close to survive.
I didn’t fight my way to this decision just to let him talk me out of it now.
It’s too late. And I need him to understand that.
So I keep moving. Faster. Away.
Before I give him even the smallest opening to believe this can still be fixed.
SEASICK
ASHLEY
Istep out onto the veranda, gripping the railing, letting the sea breeze cool my cheeks. The setting sun glows orange and pink on the waves below, steady and endless. I wish my life felt like that right now.
But it isn’t.
Beckett told Courtney and Mrs. Grady that we’d been together ever since that first meeting in high school.Only, it’s not completely true. Not even if we don’t count this last month.
There was only one other time when we broke up. Likereallybroke up.
I was a junior, still in high school. He was a freshman at MIT, buried in classes and the kind of future I couldn’t quite picture myself in yet.
Long-distance was hard. We fought constantly—missed calls, jealous silences, a thousand little things that felt enormous at the time.
So, being practical and proactive, I’d suggested we “see other people.”
A month later, he’d come home for Christmas break. I remember walking into a mutual friend’s party, wearing cherryvanilla lip gloss and holding some guy’s hand—someone safe and forgettable.
Beckett was across the room, red Solo cup in hand.
And when our eyes met—God, it was like I’d reached across the room and sucker-punched him.
My date said something about getting us drinks, and I nodded.
I think.
I pretended not to notice that Beckett’s hair was a little longer, that his eyes were even bluer than I remembered. But when he pushed off the kitchen counter, walking right toward me, the crowd just… fell away.
