I head to bed with the weight of the world resting on my chest.
And then I do something I didn’t think I would.
I pull up the university housing website and navigate to the spring semester applications.
Single occupancy apartments. Available for spring move-in.
I start filling out the application.
I need space from Declan. From the intensity of living in the same house. He needs it as well.
Dad was right. I can't keep accepting his sacrifices while making none of my own.
At some point, I have to decide if I’m willing to give up my carefully planned future for this relationship.
Chapter Eight
DECLAN
Day three in Miami, and I'm sunburned, slightly hungover, and genuinely happy for the first time in weeks.
We spent yesterday on the beach.
Stupid, mindless fun.
I’ve never done the whole spring break thing. My dad always had me taking extra lessons, sending me to this camp or that, or we were in the Hamptons with his athlete clients.
Miami was exactly what I needed.
I pick up my phone and send Sutton a selfie of me stretched out on a float in the pool at the house. I want her to know I’m okay. She’s worried. I get it. But I’m good—and I’m alone. Not a woman in sight.
Her reply is a heart emoji.
If I scroll up through our thread, most of her replies are emojis.
She’s responsive but distant, like there's a wall between us that wasn't there before.
Maybe it's just the physical distance.
Or maybe it's something else.
"You're thinking too hard." Ashton appears at the edge of the pool with two more beers. "Drink this."
"Thanks." I paddle over and grab one. "Question for you."
"Shoot."
"Does Sutton seem strange to you? In her texts in the group chat?"
He shrugs. “She’s probably busy with her family.”
I take a drink. “Something feels off."
Ashton sits on the edge of the pool, feet in the water. "Can I be real with you?"
"Always."
"The lifestyle thing? It matters." He looks at me seriously. "You come from money. She doesn't. You're probably going pro. She's going into forensics. Those are very different worlds."
