“We were fourteen. You haven’t been to a class in years.”
“Okay, maybe I’m not a black belt like you, but I box now, too.”
That almost earns a grudging smile.
“Look, I know you’re a badass,” he says. “But there are things out there you can’t fight your way out of.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
“That’s not the point.” He leansin, hands gripping my shoulders, firm and grounding. “You just have to be more careful, okay? I need you to promise me.”
“God, you sound like my mother,” I joke, trying to deflect and lighten the weight pressing down on the moment. “You going to warn me the Underworld’s coming after me next?”
He doesn’t laugh.
“Promise me,”he repeats, his voice so serious it stills me completely.
The lump in my throat stops me from joking again, because beneath all the frustration, what I hear is concern.
Fear.
Love.
Even if he won’t say those words.
More than anything, this conversation shows me how much he really does care. His protectiveness—it means something. You don’t get that upset over someone unless they really matter.
“Okay,” I say. “I promise.”
“Thank you.”
He leans back, exhaling hard. For a second, he looks… tired. Worn down in a way that makes him seem far older than his eighteen years.
“I just… Iworry about you, alright? Probably more than I should,” he confesses.
I shift closer, my hand finding his knee, resting there lightly.
“That’s really sweet,” I say, “but I don’t need you playing hero. I just need my best friend back.” My voice trembles, full of everything I’ve been holding in. “I really miss you, Hay. And I—I’ve been a mess. You’ve been so distant, and I’ve felt completely alone, like I don’t even matter to you. And it sucks.” I don’t pull my hand away, even as I steel myself for what comes next. “So what is it? What’s going on with you?”
He stills. Not just quiet—completely, unnervingly still.
“If it’s Amber, I can handle it,” I say, pushing past the thud in my chest when he doesn’t answer right away. “Whatever it is… I can deal. As long as you and I are okay. Just, please, stop shutting me out.”
Silence stretches between us, long enough that it starts to feel dangerous. Like if one more second passes, the ground between us might crack in two.
“It’s not Amber,” he finally says.
“It’s not?”
He exhales, a slow, weighted breath, and shakes his head once, deliberate. “I never meant to push you away. Al, I…”
I lean forward, hope blooming painfully in my chest.
“Yes?” I breathe.
This is it.
This is the moment he says what I’ve been aching to hear. That he misses me. That I matter. That I’m still his best friend and always will be.
