When it’s over, the world feels quieter. Just the patter of rain, the rush of blood in my ears, the weight of him still holding me up because my legs won’t.
I press my forehead to the wall in front of me, catching my breath. “We can’t do this again.”
“I know,” he says, but his arms don’t move.
That’s the worst part, the way it feels right, even when it’s all wrong.
Because no matter how many times I tell myself to walk away, I already know the truth:
It doesn’t mean what it feels like.
But I’ll spend years wishing it did.
The sound of rain fills the silence between us. He hasn’t moved yet, his breath still ragged against my neck, our clothes half-on, half-off, the air thick with everything we shouldn’t have done. My pulse is still racing, but the rush fades fast, too fast, leaving only the ache underneath it. The air between us feels heavier now, thick with everything we didn’t say.
“I should go,” I say, even though neither of us moves.
He finally steps back, giving me space to turn around. He drags a shaky hand through his hair like that might erase what just happened. Rain drips from his hair, sliding down his cheek. “Sarah…”
“Don’t.” My voice is quiet and my throat burns but it slices through the space between us. “Please don’t say my name like that. You’ll find a way to make this sound noble. You always do. But we both know what this was.”
His eyes lift and his jaw tightens, the muscle ticking. “You think I planned this? That I came here looking for—”
I laugh, but it’s hollow. “No. I think you came here because you’re lonely. And I was stupid enough to think maybe that I still meant something. I think you don’t know what to do with it.” My throat burns as the words fall out, too sharp, too honest. “And that’s the difference between us, Jace. I don’t blame you for not needing me. I blame you for pretending you did.”
The words hang there, splintering the quiet. He flinches, shoulders caving a little. His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t argue, doesn’t reach for me. Maybe he knows there’s nothing left to say.
He looks like he wants to argue, to fix it, but nothing comes out. Just that same look I’ve seen too many times, want and regret tangled into something that hurts to look at.
I tug my jeans up with shaking hands, attempt to fix my hair, and step back into the night. The rain has eased, leaving the street slick and silver under the streetlights.
I shove my hands into my pockets, turn toward the alley’s mouth, and start walking. My boots splash through puddles, water soaking my cuffs, every step heavier than the last. The bar’s glow spills onto the street ahead, blurring in the rain. I round the corner and stop dead, heart hammering.
And then I see her.
Sierra.
She’s standing under the awning of The Bar, phone to her ear, laughing softly at something I can’t hear. Her hair’s longer now, loose waves damp from the drizzle. She looks…happy. Whole. And completely unaware of what just happened twenty feet away from her.
Jace is only a few steps behind me, and for one terrifying second, I think he’s going to follow. But he doesn’t.
My stomach twists hard enough to steal my breath.
I duck my head, praying she doesn’t look up, doesn’t see me, doesn’t read every secret I’m carrying on my face. I pass fast, heart hammering, rain masking the sound of my steps.
When I reach my car, I grip the door handle until my fingers ache. The storm’s eased, but inside me it’s still raging. Because no matter how hard I try to bury it, the truth keeps clawing its way back.
Because for all the ways he broke me, the worst part is… I still wanted him to stop me.
And he didn’t.
I was never enough to make him want me and me only.
And he was never strong enough to let me go.
My phone buzzes on the passenger seat, the screen lighting up with Emma’s name.
Emma: Where’d you go? You disappeared.
