After Brandon left, the house was too quiet—so quiet it pressed in on me from all sides, amplifying every thought until it was deafening. I wandered through the living room, trailing my fingers along the back of a chair, the edge of the counter, searching for something solid to hold on to. The silence was so complete I could hear my own heartbeat, frantic and uneven. When the tears finally came, they weren’t gentle. They doubled meover and wrung sobs from my chest so deep they left my ribs aching and my throat raw.
I am not ashamed of what happened when I was fifteen. I am ashamed that I let myself believe—just for a moment—that someone could see all of me and choose to stay. That hope feels like the cruelest betrayal of all.
When the tears finally ran dry, what was left was a cold, hard clarity. I did not lie. I survived something violent and complicated. I carried it alone for years because timing matters and trust has to grow before wounds can be opened safely.
If Luke cannot hold both truths at once—my past and my present—then the break is not in me. It is in him. I am not the one who shattered.
By the time I crawled into bed, I was still brokenhearted, but I was done begging. If he comes back, he will have to come back differently. I will not make myself small again, not even for love.
LUKE
My anger dissolves on the second day.
What replaces it is worse.
I replay the scene over and over, but now the focus has shifted. I no longer see my father as the authority in the room. I see Andi at the end of the table, holding photographs with shaking hands.
I hear her say,You promised me. Then I see myself stepping back from her.
That’s the part I can’t outrun.
At the gym, she adjusts her schedule to avoid mine. I hear about it from the guys before they realize what they’re telling me. She’s quieter. More focused. Not distracted—just contained.
Contained.
The word stings because it fits… it sounds like survival.
I volunteer at the youth center again, half hoping she’ll be there and half afraid she will. She isn’t. Or maybe she was—and chose not to be seen. Either possibility lands the same.
I call. She doesn’t answer.
I go to her house. She doesn’t open the door.
For five days, I examine every memory we’ve built together, looking for evidence of deceit, but all I find is consistency. Generosity that never asked forcredit. Loyalty that never wavered. The way she looked at me like I was worth believing in—even when I wasn’t.
Megan bruised my pride.
Andi exposed my fear.
And instead of rising to meet it, I not only hesitated… I ran.
The realization doesn’t come like lightning. It settles slowly, undeniably. I didn’t protect myself in Dad’s office. I protected my old wound. I let my father’s suspicion override my own experience of who I know her to be. I broke a promise in the exact moment she needed me to keep it.
The worst part isn’t that I may have lost her.
It’s that she reached for me, and I pulled away.
And now I have no idea how to ask for a second chance without proving that I deserved to lose the first.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ANDI
Ipracticed a different song over the weeks leading up to the last night Luke and I were at the club together—the night the band played and the contest was paused. But for the past week, I’ve rehearsed a different song—one that fits the raw, unsettled place I’m in. I don’t know if Luke will show up tonight. Part of me hopes he does, just so he’ll hear what I can’t say to his face.
I’ve kept going to the gym, refusing to let heartbreak drive me out of the one place that still feels like mine. But I’ve purposely avoided the times I know Luke will be there. Pop and the other guys still rely on me to help them.That’s something I won’t let Luke rob me of. Shane asked if I’m all right, but I can’t bring myself to answer honestly. I doubt he knows the truth, and I’m not ready to hand it over.
Luke has called and shown up at my house unannounced several times. I let the phone ring until it stops, each time feeling the ache sharpen. I can’t risk hearing his voice, can’t risk the hope that would flare up if he apologized—or the devastation if he didn’t. I hide when he comes by, watching his truck idle at the curb, afraid that if I see him, I’ll run out and beg for something I know I shouldn’t want.
