Vinny is on my other side now, close enough that I can feel the steadiness of him. Anchoring.
We’re almost out the other side of the green room when I hear it. My name. Soft, strained, familiar enough to make my bones ache.
“Rafe—”
I freeze mid-step. Miles’s hand touches my back in warning, but it’s too late. Ollie is here, standing in the green-room doorway like he’s been waiting, like he couldn’t stop himself.
His eyes are wide. His face looks wrecked. He looks?—
God.
He looks like the man who used to hold me like I was sacred.
“Please wait,” he says. “Rafe.”
Vinny turns slightly, blocking the door behind us, giving us privacy without making it a scene.
My heartbeat is so loud I swear Ollie can hear it.
He takes a half step forward and stops, like he’s afraid of crossing some invisible line, then swallows hard. His throat moves, and the sight of it does something sharp to me.
He’s close enough now that if I lifted my hand, I could touch him.
The thought makes me nauseous.
I can’t.
I can’t do this.
Not here. Not now. Not after eight years of learning how to live with the hole he left.
My mouth opens and the truth falls out, brutal and plain. “I can’t,” I say.
Ollie’s face crumples—a tiny fracture, like he tried so hard to hold himself together and the words found the crack. He nods once, like he’s forcing his body to obey. “Okay,” he says, voice rough. “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head quickly, like he’s trying to rewind the moment. “I didn’t know you would be here,” he adds, and I believe him because he looks like he’s been hit by a truck. “But Iunderstand.” His eyes flick down to my hands, then back to my face. “I’ll let you go,” he says quietly. “Take care.”
Take care.
Like we’re strangers.
Like we didn’t share a life.
I don’t respond. I can’t trust my voice. So I do the only thing I know how to do when my heart is too exposed: I turn, and I walk away.
Vinny gets me into the car like he’s done it a thousand times. Door open. Head down. Seat belt clicked. Windows tinted. Miles stays back with the guys.
The world outside becomes a blur of studio lights and parking lot asphalt and LA night settling in like a sigh. I stare straight ahead while Vinny slides into the driver’s seat. He doesn’t speak immediately. He never does when I’m like this. He understands my silence. Understands that if he says the wrong thing too early, I might crack.
The engine turns over, and we pull out. The city unfolds around us—neon, traffic, palm trees, the familiar LA glow that always looks like a filter even in real life.
A few minutes pass before Vinny speaks. “You okay?”
I let out a breath that feels like it’s been trapped in my chest since Ollie said my name. “I’m not sure,” I admit.
Vinny nods, like that’s an answer he respects. “All right.”
Silence fills the car again, but it isn’t empty. It’s heavy with everything I’m trying not to feel. I close my eyes for a second, and all I see is Ollie’s face when I said“I can’t.”I see the way he swallowed hard like he was choking on regret. I hear his voice:“Please wait, Rafe.”
