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Tears.
Hot.
Fast.
Silent at first.
Then not.
I press my hand to my mouth.
Try to hold it in.
But it comes anyway.
Because it’s not just one thing.
It’s everything.
Tristan.
Kane.
The field.
The whispers.
The way everyone else seems to fall into something—while I’m just standing here.
Choosing myself.
And ending up—alone.
Frustrated.
Missing heat. Passion.Sex.
All the things that everyone else is having in spades.
I curl onto my side, pull the pillow into my chest.
Eyes burning.
I didn’t want this.
Not like this.
And the worst part? I don’t even know how to fix it.
