My throat closes. My stomach twists. Every ounce of pride, every memory of her, every year I lost to drugs and the mess I’ve made of my life—it all crashes down at once. She’s...she’s paintingme. Or theabsenceof me. Seven years later.
My hands shake. I should turn away, leave before she sees me—before I ruin her any more than I already have. But I can’t. I’m rooted to the sidewalk, staring, broken. I clench my jaw so hard it could snap, wishing I could erase the years, the pain, the choices that led us here.
Should I go in? No. I can’t—
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Dude, are you okay?” Micah asks, catching my spiral.
I sigh, backing away, dragging a hand through my hair. “Yeah, man. I’m fine.”
But I can’t fucking breathe.
My body’s caught between fight and flight, and both are losing. I can’t look away from the way her shoulders move when she sobs. There’s a fragility now to the woman I loved. She seems so much smaller than she used to, curled in on herself.
And I...I fucking did that.
Micah murmurs, “I think she still loves you.”
I nod, barely. My throat feels raw.
“Jesus, man,” he says softly. “You really loved her.”
Still do.But the words stay locked behind my teeth.
The song inside is muffled by the window, but the melody twists through anyway, breaking me open.I know that fucking song.The memory hits, and it’s cruel and tender all at once. The first time she told me she loved me, this song was playing. My hand curls into a fist. I take a step forward. Then stop.
What the hell would I even say?
Hey. Sorry for disappearing. Sorry for the years you spent trying to forget me. Sorry for being the reason you learned what heartbreak feels like.
Micah’s hand settles on my shoulder. “Jude...if you’re gonna go in, go. But if you’re not, don’t torture yourself.”
My fingers twitch toward the door handle, then fall away. I don’t know if I want to run or collapse. I press my fist to my mouth to choke back the sound trying to escape. Another hot tear slips free. I want to rush inside—to tell her I never meant to break her, to fall to my knees and beg her to hate me less.
But I can’t.
Because if I walk through that door, I’ll never be able to leave again. Who I am now isn’t right for her.
Micah squeezes my shoulder. “Come on.”
I nod, though every step away from that window feels like something is being torn out of my chest. The music fades behind us. I glance back one last time, and for a second, I swear I feel her sadness reach through the glass and find mine.
And I turn away.
Micah keeps glancing at me, probably waiting for me to say something. But what could I even say? That I just saw the onlyperson I’ve ever really loved crying over a ghost? Because the man she loved doesn’t exist anymore.
He’s fucking dead.
We end up in a quiet café. I order a coffee I won’t drink and stare at the steam curling off the surface of it. My hands won’t stop shaking, the damn things.
Micah leans back, studying me for a long moment. “You wanna talk about it?”
For a second, I almost tell him no. That it’s none of his business or that it won’t change anything. But I don’t bother. I’m too tired. I’ve been tired for years.
I drag a hand over my face and take a breath that feels like swallowing glass. “You know how the first night I met Nolan and Adriana, I…” I lower my voice, “killed someone?”
Micah doesn’t flinch. He nods once, waiting.
